


The Importance of Being Earnest

by Majestrix



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gaila is Gaila, Nyota is a grown woman and doesn't need permission from her parents, Spock doesn't have to tell his parents everything about his life, and is probably the only sane person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majestrix/pseuds/Majestrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Academy Era. Spock and Nyota decide to spend the summer together. They're adults, that's a decision they can make right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to two people, Letterstonorah and Aneres for their valuable input and hand-holding.

“Isn’t this better?” Christopher Pike takes a deep breath of fresh air into his lungs as he gestures expansively. 

Spock raises an eyebrow and shifts his head to the side to avoid a freefalling leaf. “Better is subjective,” he reminds his friend. 

“Agreed, and speaking _subjectively_ this is better. Moving air independent of filtration systems, real humidity and natural light. All things good for the soul. Or _katra_ , if it were,” Chris says as he inclines his head toward Spock before pinning his gaze to the chess board between them. 

Spock glances around at the humanoids as they come and go in Mission Delores Park. It is nearing the end of spring and it appears peoples of various species desired as much nature that can be found within the confines of San Francisco. Spock does not consider himself one of them, and finds the air within his or Chris’ apartments to be adequate for playing chess. 

_”There’s no logical reason to refuse sitting in moderate sunshine on a fairly warm day, is there? No, there isn’t. So I’ve got the portable set and I’m downstairs so get moving. It’ll be fun, and besides, I always play better in open air. I don’t know why, I guess it helps me concentrate.”_

So far Spock does not detect any change in Chris’ playing ability. “Do you truly believe by staring at the board for prolonged periods of time, you may glean a move that is beyond your current skill set?”

Chris blinks slowly while determining his best move. “Yes,” he says.

“That is illogical.”

“So you’ve said,” he says, and moves his rook. 

Spock glances down at the board and sits back. “Checkmate in five moves,” he announces.

“Goddamn it,” Chris swears with no real heat. “I hate when you win.”

“Then why agree to play me?”

“If I don’t play I can’t get any better.”

“Understood, but you expressed displeasure at my winning.”

“Is this to get me back for dragging you out into nature?” Chris shakes his head. “Nevermind, don’t bother answering. I am resigned to a life of being beaten by you at chess.” He watches the people walk past the chess tables as Spock sets up the board. “Spock,” he asks suddenly, “what do you have planned this summer?”

Spock pauses and frowns. “The timeframe that comprises the summer season necessitates many plans.”

“This _is_ you getting me back for dragging you to the park.” Chris shakes his head. “Fine, tell me about a few of your plans this summer.”

“I await approval to offer group tutoring in various subjects in which I have expertise. I have requested use of my Advanced Phonology classroom.”

“Are there any subjects in which you _don’t_ have any expertise?” Chris rubs his chin and moves his pawn. 

Spock allows himself a small smirk. “Psychology.” Spock makes his opening move quickly and settles in for a wait.

Chris snorts and laughs. “You don’t want to get burned out, Spock,” he warns as he regards the board. 

“I understand the limits of my stamina. I will have no classes and no grading; my workload will decrease an acceptable level.” Spock considers Chris’ move and his mouth tightens. “Should I inform you that should you continue on this path you will lose in four moves?”

“Damn it.” Chris tips over his queen sourly. “In the future, no. Humans tend to want to find out on our own if we’re losing.”

“Why?” Spock tilts his head. “I have not lied.”

“No, but if I didn’t know you so well I wouldn’t want to believe you. I would think you’re bluffing.”

“I do not bluff,” Spock says.

“No kidding.” Chris sits back and regards Spock. “I’m serious about burning out, Spock. It’s not just about energy levels. It’s also about doing something so much and for so long that you get tired of it. That it no longer holds your interest.”

“Teaching is not only beneficial to Starfleet but it is where I am stationed until the completion of the Enterprise. Interest has no bearing.”

“Spock, I say this as a friend and dare I say it, mentor in the few things you don’t have any experience in; you should take your vacation time and do things you want to do. Reach deep down, Spock, and tell me do you really want to tutor some kids who may or may not appreciate the effort you’re putting forth? You could be doing almost anything else.” Chris brightens. “You could go home and visit your mother.”

“Negative, my father may be there,” Spock says.

“Still rough going?” 

Spock looks at Chris’ twisted facial features and recalls the name of the phenomenon. _Sympathetic grimace_. “Our last conversation was… less than satisfactory. He wishes me to spend more time at the Vulcan Embassy if I refuse to visit Vulcan in my allocated personal time.”

“What’s wrong with the Embassy?”

“I would be watched at every turn. Amongst Humanity I am considered wholly Vulcan. Those who staff the Embassy are of the mindset that I am barely Vulcan. I do not wish to spend eight weeks subjecting myself to being made to feel inferior,” Spock says.

Chris raises his eyebrow. “Well no shit,” he says. “So you’re going to commit to the academy? They already use you for any and all projects they can find because you don’t say no.”

“If I am able is it not logical to do?” Spock asks. 

“There is a time and a place for everything,” Chris counters.

“Will this conversation devolve into another session where we recall any and all ultimately empty proverbs?” Spock asks.

“Not this time, Spock. What is it you _want_ to do?” Chris asks.

Spock considers. “It is illogical to dwell on circumstances that will not occur,” he says.

“So you have an idea, but you don’t want to say. Does it have something to do with your secret girlfriend?” Chris asks.

Spock’s mouth flattens into a disapproving line. Nyota Uhura is more than his friend and absolutely not a _girl_. Every summer she returns to her parents’ compound in Nairobi and it was not until they began their personal romantic relationship that it became a problem. “Perhaps,” he says.

“Oh ho,” Chris crows. “Now we’re on to something. Well, why don’t you spend time with her? Go out, or even better, stay in at some exotic locale. You’re young and in love. Hell, I’m surprised you’re free now!”

Spock clears his throat quietly. Nyota was not able to meet him for dinner due to her presence being requested by another instructor. Dryly, Spock considers that her company would be much more agreeable than the _fresh_ air and increased noise pollution that his friend wishes to subject him to. 

“She… has recurring plans during the break,” Spock says. “I do not wish to be the cause of her breaking them.”

Chris shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe she would like it.”

“I did not consider that,” Spock admits. “How do you balance your respect for another’s plans and time with your own desires?”

“Honestly, the same way you decide if you’re going to meet for dinner or spend the night or go to the movies,” Chris says as he rearranges the board. “You make a suggestion and let them make up their mind.” He stops and gives Spock his full attention. “You can want to do and share things with someone else and still respect them. It’s all in how you pose the suggestion or offer.”

“Your logic is sound,” Spock says reluctantly. 

“Why do you sound so surprised? I’ve been in relationships before.” Chris’ expression is playfully offended.

“I do not wish to marry to merely divorce.”

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t be your friend and have an ego, too, can I?”

Spock merely tilts his head. 

“At any rate you don’t know the reasons why my relationships ended, do you?” he asks.

“No,” Spock admits.

“And I’m not going to go into those reasons right now,” Chris says. “I will say this, though. Don’t be afraid to want things in your relationship, Spock. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Spock blinks. “She could perish as a result of an action I have taken,” he says.

Chris opens his mouth and closes it. “…That’s a metaphor, Spock.”

“But it is a reasonable answer,” he insists.

“Is it? Is it really?” Chris moves a pawn with a small smile on his face. “See, I made a move in under five minutes; I think that means you can request your secret girlfriend’s presence for the summer.”

Spock ponders the various consequences of his request. Nyota may say yes. She may say no. She may demand he never speak to her again in a personal capacity. Family is very important to her. He is unsure if he will make the request of Nyota; he does not wish to make her feel she must choose him over her family. “Checkmate in seven moves,” he says. 

Chris’ self-congratulatory smirk becomes pained. 

***

 

“I’m glad we tried this place. I was curious when I heard Professor Clark rave about it,” Nyota says.

“Indeed. The food is highly acceptable,” Spock says after he sips his mint tea.

Nyota can’t help but smile at his choice of words. Coming from a Human it would be the palest of praises, barely complimentary. From Spock? Positively glowing. When Spock proposed they dine out Nyota remembered a new Korean-Deltan fusion restaurant that sounded promising. The décor is tasteful and the food better than advertised. The only thing?

Her Vulcan appears deep in thought. He’s not inattentive by any means but Nyota’s become accustomed to his razor-like focus and when it isn’t present it feels… strange. Almost absentminded. 

Nyota smiles slightly and requests the bill from the display against the wall. “How about we stop by Bi-Rite Creamery on the way back? I’m craving some ice cream,” she says as she swipes her credits stick and gathers her purse. 

“That is satisfactory.”

Spock nods once, helps her out of her chair and offers her his arm with an air of preoccupation. Nyota wishes to pry and ask what has him so quiet but she refrains; if he has something to say then Spock will say it, one of the perks of Spock’s personality.

The cab ride is silent but comfortable. Nyota is glad that Spock feels secure enough in their quasi-seclusion to hold her hand and sends him calm and serenity through the one way telepathic contact. Sometimes, even for Spock, touch is merely touch. Nyota’s not psi-null and he has shown her how to bump against his mind, like a polite knock to get his attention.

She does so now. The sensation is almost indescribable, and just about immediately Nyota can sense Spock considering what feels to be a very serious subject, but he shields exactly what captures his thoughts. 

_You will know in due time_ , he whispers in her mind. 

_I worry. Are you troubled?_

_Merely undecided. Ashayam, all is well._

Nyota retreats but the small furrow between Spock’s brow remains. But eventually, as the scenery changes outside the taxi windows, he rouses interestedly as they get closer to Bi-Rite Creamery. Nyota remembers the first time Spock introduced her to the lovely place. They specialize in flavors most people consider odd or daring, and even much loved flavors from other planets.

The shop is large and brightly lit; people mill around in intense conversations as choices are debated and selections delivered. The flavors are temporary due to seasonal availability and prices around the galaxy so every visit is always an adventure.

It’s here that Spock takes Nyota’s hand and tucks it in his elbow and she can’t help but grin as her heart swells. She loves this man, absolutely head over heels for him. 

“You are staring,” Spock murmurs as they shuffle closer to the counter to look at the latest offerings of flavors. 

“Am I?” Nyota hums. “Must be because you’re so handsome.”

“I cannot find fault with your logic. You are Human and your memory fails. It is best you gaze upon me often so you are reminded,” Spock says as he leans forward to make his choices. Nyota snorts and shakes her head. So many people think that Spock has no sense of humor. They’d probably fall over if they heard his often funny jokes. 

They make their selections of two scoop cones: Spock chooses a scoop of kasa and another of cordial cherry for his and Nyota selects white chocolate raspberry and balsamic strawberry. After paying they decide to walk the rest of the way to Spock’s apartment before Nyota returns to the dorms. 

Spock holds her hand the entire way and she receives waves of contentment and satisfaction from him. _This is nice_ , she thinks. It’s warm and there’s Spock and there’s ice cream. 

“Nyota?”

She stirs from her thoughts and smiles up at him. “Yes, Spock?”

“Will you tell me what you’re thinking about?” He looks young with his uncertainty visible on his face and Nyota wonders if it’s the work of the chocolate. 

“I’m thinking that in this moment I am very happy,” she says.

“Happy to be with me?” he asks.

Nyota almost frowns. “Absolutely,” she says. “Is that what’s worrying you? You’re worried that I’m not enjoying myself with you?”

Spock hesitates and wonders at the wisdom of ordering chocolate this evening. His thoughts feel loose and his tongue even looser. “That is not exactly what concerns me.”

“If you want to talk about something, Spock, I hope you know you can,” she says.

Spock realizes they’ve stopped a few steps away from one of the entrances to Mission Delores Park, and decides that is what Humans call a proverbial sign.

“I appreciate all the time we are allotted to pursue personal activities with each other. Our minds, values and goals are satisfactorily complimentary and we are exceedingly physically compatible and I derive much pleasure from our sexual congress. Do you?”

Nyota tries not to chuckle, but can’t keep the small smile from her face. “I do,” she says.

“I find I am often dissatisfied when I am unable to spend time with you,” he admits.

“I am, too,” Nyota responds.

“When you leave for long periods I experience episodes of melancholy. Do you have familiarity with this sensation?”

Spock looks genuinely disturbed and it takes all of Nyota’s self-control not to throw her arms around his neck and kiss the concern from his face. “Yes, it’s called _missing_ someone. I miss you, too when I don’t get to see you.”

“I would like more,” Spock says.

Nyota blinks as her heartbeat roars in her ears. Is he… “Um, what are you referring to?” She winces as her voice comes out more like a shriek.

“Nyota, the pitch of your voice indicates that you are distressed. Would you rather speak on another subject?” Spock pulls her closer as if the feelings Nyota are experiencing are corporeal. 

“No,” she says. “Just please explain what you mean by you want more.” Is he going to propose? Will she say yes? How could she say no? Is she too young to get married? Who cares if you think you’ve found the one? Oh my god-

“I wish for you to remain in San Francisco and spend the sanctioned break with me.” 

Nyota feels almost faint at the mix of disappointment and abject relief coursing through her veins. She leans her forehead against Spock’s chest and shakily releases the breath she was holding. 

“I am uncertain of your physiological reaction and how it relates to my request,” Spock says softly.

Nyota chuckles and looks up at him. “I thought… nevermind,” she says hurriedly. “You want me to stay with you, in your apartment for the entire eight weeks?”

“Affirmative. I understand that you visit your family in Nairobi.”

“I do,” Nyota agrees. 

“I also know how important family is to you,” Spock says.

“It is.”

“… I still wish to extend the invitation.” He looks as if he wants to say something else, but ultimately his face levels into his neutrally expectant expression. 

“That will be the longest we’ve ever spent continuously in each other’s presence,” she says. 

“Affirmative.”

“Are you sure? I know you like your privacy. I’ve also noticed a distinct air of relief when I leave sometimes,” Nyota says dryly.

“Relief is not the correct word to convey the emotion I felt,” Spock says.

“Felt?”

“Affirmative. I no longer experience the emotion more aptly described as a series of emotions. I experienced anger and frustration at the thought of you leaving. Then shame at the illogical emotional response. The relief you ascertained was not that you were leaving, but that I knew with you removed from my immediate vicinity in time I would be able to correct my emotional response.”

Nyota reaches up and gently cups Spock’s jaw. “And now?”

“Now I have learned that you will return of your own free will, and that you are gratified by the time we are able to have together. I endeavor to ensure you will always feel thus,” he says, leaning into her cool touch. “What say you, Nyota?” he asks.

“I consider this a big step in our relationship. One I’m unsure if I’m ready for. We’ve got a little over a week before classes end for summer; can I have some time to think about it?” Nyota asks.

“I do not wish to pressure you,” Spock says. “You may take what time you need.”

Nyota rises to her toes and presses a chaste kiss to Spock’s mouth. He deepens it immediately, pulling her closer and almost off of her heels. “Spock,” she breaks the kiss laughing. “Put me down!”

“I do not wish to,” Spock says. “I may be required to carry you to my apartment.”

“I thought I was going back to the dorms,” she says as he reluctantly lowers her to her feet. 

“I would be pleased if you remained at my apartment until morning.”  
“That chocolate has you riled up,” Nyota chuckles. 

_Negative_ , Spock considers. _The curve of your spine beneath my hand and the swing of your hips. The silk of your skin and the fullness of your lips. The promise in your eyes and the love I feel from you is what confounds my logic and causes me to submit to your merciful love_. “Perhaps,” he says.

Nyota leans forward and takes a highly eroticized lick of Spock’s melting ice cream. “Then maybe we shouldn’t waste it.”

Spock inhales deeply through his nose and marvels at his good fortune.

***

“Hey, you’re back early.” Gaila looks up from her padd and gives her roommate a big smile from where she lounges on her bed. She’s done with classes for the day and is in her favorite lingerie, a nude colored muted green, while painting her toenails bright white.

Nyota toes off her boots. “Yeah, my last tutee cancelled. Actually they sent me a message from Cabo; they forgot they had signed up for the session today but they’re already gone so…” Nyota tosses her communicator on her bed and sighs. “Half of my classes were almost empty today. We’ve still got days before we’re off.”

“Mine, too,” Gaila laughs and double checks to make sure she isn’t smearing nail polish on her toes. “I love it. The professors don’t even care,” she says absently as she focuses on painting carefully. 

“I do,” Nyota grumbles. “It’s a waste of time because they’re going to have to go over everything again when we come back. It’s going to set us behind schedule.”

“Okay, what has burrowed up your butt and expired?” Gaila asks. She lowers her foot and wiggles her toes carefully. As it dries the white polish begins turn opalescent. 

Nyota’s shoulders slump. “Is that my nail polish?” she asks.

“I don’t understand,” Gaila says. “What are these words you’re using? I am a mere girl from Kolar and am unsure of how to communicate correctly.”

Nyota snorts. “ _I speak your language_ ,” she reminds her in Kolari.

“Oh yeah.” Gaila sniffs. “This may or may not be your nail polish,” she says.

“Looks good on you.”

“I know, right?” Gaila shakes the bottle and lifts her other foot. “So are you going to tell me what’s bothering you? Normally you’re ready for vacation time, unless you’re in the middle of a big project.”

“No, no project,” Nyota says as she releases her hair from her tight pony tail and rubs at her scalp. But it’s not helping the low level tension in the pit of her stomach. Ever since Spock’s unexpected suggestion she’s been thinking about it. If she’s honest with herself, Nyota’s kind of glad everyone’s unfocused and slacking off.

It hides her own anxiety. 

“Did you and Spock fight?”

Nyota blinks out of her reverie to see Gaila staring at her strangely. “What?” Nyota yelps.

“He seems too logical to argue, but he’s Vulcan so he’s stubborn,” Gaila says.

“Anyone can be stubborn,” Nyota says. “Doesn’t matter what species they belong to.”

“Yeah, but Vulcans are on another level.” Gaila sticks out her tongue and manages to keep the tiny brush on her pinkie toenail. “So did you fight?”

“No.” 

“Are you going to give me one word answers until I figure it out? If so, we’re going to need to go get some food. Can I borrow your sandals? The ones with the high heel? I want to show off my toes.” Gaila wiggles her toes and admires how the color looks against her skin. 

She glances up to see Nyota in some sort of daydreaming trance. _Honestly_ , Gaila wonders. What would Nyota do without her as a roommate? Someone who will pull her out of her brain every once in a while and tell her to stop overthinking things? Nyota has pretty good instincts, for a Human, Gaila considers. If her odd way of thinking didn’t get in her way. 

“So you fought and he won?” Gaila encourages.

“What?” Nyota wakes up and immediately frowns as Gaila’s words register. “No, Gaila,” she says.

“Sandals,” Gaila prompts.

Robotically, Nyota crouches to reach under her bed for the shoes and hands them to Gaila. “We didn’t fight,” Nyota says as she watches Gaila go to the closet for some clothes. 

“So what’s the problem?” Gaila asks yet again. “You’re kind of moody and you’ve been that way for the past few days.”

“You should wear your white shorts and that new crocheted halter I got the last time we went shopping.”

“Good idea. That top makes my breasts look amazing, but they already look awesome,” Gaila says as she slips out of her bra and throws it on her bed. 

Nyota chuckles. “What are you doing for your summer vacation?” Since Gaila can’t return to Kolar she saves her credits for amazing and unique trips on Earth and other Federation planets. 

“I booked a first class trip on the newly minted Risa Express. I will be ferried in style to Grasha’s Resort where I will bask nakedly in the sun while my naked body is rubbed with oils I’ll never know the name of by men, women and variations thereof with great hands and amazing- ”

“Back to Earth,” Nyota interrupts, laughing. 

“Yeah, yeah, for now,” Gaila grumbles as she wiggles her hips into her shorts. “Now come on; whatever’s on your mind will be solved by some good food. You’re buying.”

Nyota sighs. She’s been snacking on everything while she decides if she’s going or coming. “No, you go ahead,” she says.

“Suit yourself.” Gaila strikes a pose and tosses her hair. “Do I look good?”

“Like you have to ask,” Nyota murmurs as she grabs her comm to send a message to her sister. 

_Have time to talk?_

Dimly, Nyota’s aware of the door closing. Less than ten seconds later she gets her reply.

_Sure! Call._

Nyota rolls to her back and places the call. “Makena,” she cries out when her sister’s face fills her screen. 

“ _Nyota, something wrong_?” Makena looks fairly alarmed. “ _Not that I don’t love our talks, but you don’t call unless there’s something wrong_.”

“Ugh, that’s not true,” Nyota protests. “I’m calling because I have a question and while I might regret this, I could use your advice.”

Makena’s concern morphs into a sly smile. “ _Boy trouble? Nyota, you_?” she scoffs.

Nyota remembers why she doesn’t call her sister more often. “He’s not a boy, he’s a –”

“- _man_?” Makena snorts. “ _Yeah, they’re all boys. What’s the problem? How can I bestow my wisdom upon you_?”

Nyota pinches the bridge of her nose. “This can’t get back to Mama,” she warns.

Makena gets close to the camera and looks as offended as possible. “ _I don’t snitch_ ,” she says. “ _I am perfectly reasonable_.”

“What’s it going to cost me, Makena?” Nyota asks.

“ _I just don’t keep secrets from our dear, trusting_ \- ”

“What. Is. It. Going to cost me, Makena,” Nyota interrupts. 

“ _Your yellow Osei Sima dress_.”

“What?” Nyota screeches. “No.” She shakes her head. 

“ _Suit yourself. I’ll still give you advice, though_ ,” Makena says.

“Thank you.” 

“ _But when I speak to Mama or Baba it might just slip out. How can one know the future_?”

“I haven’t told Mama who broke her favorite vase,” Nyota says sweetly.

“ _I already told her_.”

“I’m hanging up,” Nyota huffs.

“ _No, no. Look, I’m just messing with you. It’s so rare you call me for relationship advice. I’m sorry, I’ll take this seriously_ ,” Makena says. Her smile turns soft. “ _So, are you going to tell me who it is yet_?”

“His name is S’chn T’gai Spock.” Nyota’s heart rattles in her chest while she waits for her sister to place the name.

“ _He’s Vulcan_?” Makena shrieks. “ _Well, little star, you don’t do anything by halves, do you_?” She rubs the back of her neck. “ _How’d you catch the eye of a Vulcan_?”

“He was an instructor, and that’s all I’m saying,” Nyota almost shouts over her sister’s laughter. “I didn’t date him while he was responsible for grading me.”

“ _I didn’t ask, baby sister. I know you better than that_ ,” Makena says. “ _So he’s suggesting you go away for a trip_?”

“No. He wants me to stay with him in San Francisco. In his apartment.”

“ _That’s a little different than a trip. Have you spent any time in his space_?”

Nyota exhales through her nose before she nods. 

“ _Does he share_?”

“Um, yeah. He’s… very dedicated to my comfort,” Nyota realizes. 

“ _Do you want to_?”

“I think I do.” Nyota laughs. “I do,” she reaffirms.

“ _Then do it_.”

“But… Mama and Baba expect me home every summer. I don’t want to disappoint them. I don’t know how to tell them I’m staying behind because I want to spend time with my significant other,” Nyota says. “How did you do it?”

“ _They never expected me to come home every vacation_ ,” Makena says. “ _I don’t’ think they expect you to, either_.”

“They don’t sit around when I return to school, counting down the days their baby daughter returns?” Nyota rolls her eyes at her sister’s laughter. 

“ _Oh, please. You know they’re hardly home if we’re not there. Look, I know for a fact that Mama will probably use the time to strengthen her Betazed contacts and Baba… who knows with him. He’s always busy_.” Alhamisi Uhura, for the past ten years, has been working with Starfleet Intelligence on a project he keeps extremely quiet. 

“Right. They won’t miss me,” Nyota says. “I think I’m going to do it.”

“ _Good. I can’t be the only bad girl in the family_.”

“Makena!” Nyota laughs. “I don’t want to be a bad girl!”

“ _Too late_ ,” Makena sings. “ _Gotta go!_ ”

“Makena, don’t say anything until I call Mama,” Nyota shouts.

“ _Of course, bye_!” Makena blows her a kiss and ends their call. 

Nyota tosses her communicator onto her desk and stares up at the ceiling. She’s going to do it. She’s going to tell Spock she’s going to stay with him, in his apartment for eight weeks. It’ll be like they’re living together.

Living together.

Are they ready for that?

Is she grown enough for that? Nyota’s only twenty-two. Is she moving too fast?

_It’s just for the summer. A couple of weeks_ , she tells herself. Not a big deal. She’s spent the night at his house and always hates having to leave. Now…

Now she doesn’t have to leave for a good while.

“This is a good thing,” Nyota says to the empty room.

The silence agrees.

So Nyota will give Spock his answer and she’ll inform her parents she’s not going to be home in four days. She rolls to her side, thinking of a pleasant way to deliver agreeable news, and gets a very good idea. 

***

Spock powers down his terminal and very nearly sighs. He could do so, there is no one around to consider it strange. He inhales deeply and releases his breath forcefully.

He understands why Humans use this gesture to express dissatisfaction. 

There are only four days before the summer break begins, and Spock has not had a response from Nyota. She is not prone to leave anything to the last moment, so he can only conclude she has yet to find a way to reject his offer.

It was too soon.

Yet another circumstance that reveals no matter how long Spock spends among Humans he will never truly understand – 

The doors to his office open and admits Nyota, who looks vaguely surprised. “I thought you were going to revoke my access,” she says.

Spock swallows as he watches the deliberate sway in her hips. “Nyota,” he says. “You are unexpected. But not unwanted,” he adds.

“I know,” she says as she unzips her light jacket and places it on the chair he reserves for students and visitors. 

She is not wearing a bra. Spock swallows again and feels his pants tighten. “Is there something you need?” he asks.

“Yes there is,” Nyota says. “See, I’ve seen my grades and I seem to be failing your course.”

Spock is briefly confused, but immediately recalls the conversation where he admits he had many fantasies about Nyota in her cadet uniform. One such fantasy… “Your performance has been unacceptable this term.”

“I’m so sorry, Professor,” Nyota says lowly, walking around the desk and perching on the edge. When she crosses her legs Spock gets a whiff of her aroused state and cannot help the growl at the back of his throat. “I can’t seem to concentrate when I’m in your class.”

“I am not interested in excuses,” he says as he reaches out and runs a finger up Nyota’s calf. “What is it you hope to accomplish by coming here? I am not known for leniency.” Spock palms her thigh and enjoys watching his fingers slide up her skirt.

“I thought I would throw myself upon your mercy,” Nyota says, and slowly uncrosses her legs. 

Spock’s fingers tighten on her thigh when he realizes she does not wear any underwear. “You do not listen,” he says. “I have no mercy.” He rolls his chair between Nyota’s opening legs and does a laudable job of not pressing his face between her legs and inhaling deeply. “But one is not… unreasonable.”

Nyota rolls her hips and keeps her expression innocently concerned. “I will do anything,” she says as she braces her boots on Spock’s arm rests and leans back on her elbows. She’s glad Spock keeps his desk clear and Nyota bites back a groan at the positively _ravenous_ look in Spock’s expression. 

“Is that truly the case?” Spock leans forward, finally, and scrapes his teeth on the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh, darkly gratified when Nyota shudders and drops her head back. She’s wet and open and as much as he enjoys their games, he is suddenly unable to continue. He presses his nose to her clitoris and breathes in deeply.

Spock does not understand why Nyota’s scent inflames him so; no matter how often he avails himself there does not seem to be any resistance to be garnered. He licks her slick folds and finds he does not care. Spock holds Nyota’s hips down to the desk and uses his tongue to tease her into a frenzy. “Spock, oh god,” she hisses and moans lowly. “There are people still in the building.”

“Computer, lock door, disable all access.” Spock slides his first and middle fingers inside Nyota and groans with her at the sensation on his fingertips. “You are exceedingly wet,” he tells her. “Can you hear it?” Spock adjusts the angle of his fingers and the office fills with the lewd sound. 

“You make me like this,” Nyota says breathlessly. “I had to walk over here, _dripping_ at the thought of fucking you.” She bites her lip and groans.

“Do you wish to sit on my _lok_?” Spock asks. 

Nyota can only nod. He withdraws his hand from within her and she clambers off the desk while Spock undoes his pants in record time.

“Are you sure you want to do this here?” Nyota whispers. 

Spock pauses and his pants fall to his ankles. “Do you not wish to proceed?”

Nyota glances down at his groin and almost licks her lips. “Absolutely,” she says, and goes to strip off her dress when Spock reaches out and stays her wrist. 

“Please, leave it on,” he asks.

Nyota’s confusion curves into a seductive grin. “I still haven’t earned that grade, Professor,” she says as she steps close and slides her hands into his underwear. Spock hisses when her fingers graze against his tumescent flesh. “I’m willing to do _extra credit_ ,” she whispers.

Spock’s grin is little more than a baring of teeth as he pushes his underwear down to free himself. Nyota immediately grasps his _lok_ and thumbs the head, spreading the precome and making him hiss as his hips buck. 

Spock no longer wishes to play, and with a growl he pulls her back to the chair and collapses the armrests. Nyota positions herself above him, kissing him deeply as she begins to sink onto him. This is what Spock enjoys, the breathtaking sensation at first entrance, the tight coil of pleasure at the base of his spine as Nyota’s scorching body envelopes his hard _lok_.

He could exist in this moment for all time.

Nyota groans into Spock’s mouth when she sits on his lap, flexing her muscles around his hard flesh inside of her. “You feel so good,” she whispers against his face. “Oh god,” she chokes out.

Spock begins to bite at all the flesh he can reach, even at Nyota’s hard nipples through the thin material of her cadet uniform. He fills his hands with the pert globes of her ass beneath her dress and pulls her up a few inches before allowing gravity to shove her back down.

Nyota shudders and digs her nails into Spock’s neck, causing him to move her faster. He wishes to savor this illicit activity, to draw out both their pleasure but the pull of Nyota’s body settles like a physical ache in his chest and he cannot slow as he begins to thrust up into her body as he allows her to fall back onto him.

Nyota’s attempting to be quiet but she’s wailing lowly into Spock’s mouth, tugging on his hair desperately as she lets him move her body. She concentrates on the sensation Spock stirs inside of her and she pants, desperate for air and more of him. The only sounds in the room is her low keen and the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Nyota grabs the back of the chair and begins to throw her hips into it, working herself into a frenzy on Spock’s cock.

The sensor to Spock’s office door chimes once, and Nyota freezes, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She looks at Spock, who does not appear perturbed at all. She moves to lift off of him but his hands span her waist and keeps her there.

“Computer, audio only,” Spock says, his voice perfectly normal, as if he isn’t buried deep inside of Nyota. She looks at him questioningly.

“ _Hey, Spock. Your door’s locked_.”

Pike.

Nyota’s mortification rises and she attempts to move off of Spock’s lap again but he does not let her move. 

“Christopher, I apologize, were we supposed to meet tonight?” Spock widens his legs and thrusts up and it takes all of Nyota’s energy not to sob and cry out as he rubs against that spot deep inside of her.

“ _No, but I thought you may want to grab dinner. Are you going to let me in_?” 

Nyota bites down on her lip as Spock grinds himself against her, not thrusting but still moving inside of her. It’s making her back bow and all she wants to do is moan.

Spock looks as if he’s contemplating opening the door.

“I cannot, Chris. I am conducting private business with Vulcan. Another time, with appropriate prior notification,” Spock says, slowly moving in and out of Nyota. He watches greedily as she struggles to contain her vocal exaltation. He wishes to cause her to make a sound. He desires to make Nyota scream his name so loudly Chris has no choice but to understand what is happening. 

“ _Alright. Don’t work too long, remember what we talked about. Good night, Spock._ ”

“And you, Christopher. Computer, disable audio.” Spock’s words unravel to a groan as he snaps is hips up.

“ _Audio disabled_.”

“You – Oh my god,” Nyota shudders out as Spock continues to fuck her in earnest. He feels impossibly large inside of her and his hands move from her waist to her ass. 

“I was tempted, Nyota,” Spock groans as she presses her forehead against his. “I was tempted to let him in, to let Christopher in. So he could see me make you shudder with need. So I may look upon his face as you come apart on my _lok_.”

Nyota cries out at how good it feels. She would’ve agreed to anything as long as Spock continues to move his hips and hit her spot. “I’m gonna come,” she pants into his mouth, grinding down on his cock. Spock mouths wet kisses down her cheek to her neck and bites through the fabric of her uniform. 

The shock of Spock’s teeth on her skin trips Nyota into her climax and she begins to shudder uncontrollably as Spock slows his strokes but keeps moving, fucking her through her orgasm. When Nyota falls back into her body she realizes he’s still thick and hard inside of her.

Spock rubs his face against Nyota’s chest as she struggles to regain her breath. Watching her in the throes of completion never ceases to amaze him. If he could devote his entire life to making Nyota throw her head back and wail with his _lok_ then he would consider it a life well lived.

But now his fire grows too hot to contain. “Nyota,” he manages to get out. He is desperate to move and unable to articulate what he needs. 

“I’ve got you,” she croons in his ear and begins moving her hips again. The fire flares hotly inside Spock and takes over, lifting Nyota faster than she can do herself. He cannot keep the growls from leaving his throat and his entire world burns down to the sensation of Nyota on his _lok_. She leans forward and bites his lip hard and Spock rises and pushes her onto the top of his desk and moves his hips.

He is frenzied, chasing his climax almost mindlessly, rutting into his precious Nyota’s willing body. She spurs him on with her breathy encouragement, the way her hips meet his as he thrusts. She grabs his hand where it’s braced on either side of her shoulders and the sensation from her perspective doubles in his mind and they both cry out as Spock empties himself within her. He bites back a satisfied roar as he presses himself as deeply inside of Nyota as he can.

Spock imagines them married and he, on their wedding night, filling her with his seed. Continuing his family line through the most person most precious to him. It makes him dizzy and he falls forward onto Nyota, who catches him with strong arms and peppers the side of his face with kisses. “That was…” She trails off with a chuckle and groan as Spock gently removes himself from her body.

“I apologize,” Spock says, slightly out of breath himself. “I believe my amorous emotions may have gotten out of control.” 

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Nyota rises and winces as the skin over her chest moves with her. 

“I have hurt you.” Spock gently pries the material from her chest and reveals an angry looking bite marring her beautiful skin just at the swell of her breast. 

“It’s fine. Just like every other time before.” Nyota takes his hand and sends him her well-being, warm and content and just a little sore. Appreciative of his sexual prowess and her love. “Okay?” she affirms. 

“Okay has variabl-” Spock is cut off by a long, sweet kiss. “I do not know what I would do if I truly hurt thee,” he whispers against Nyota’s beautiful lips. He kisses her again and once more, because she allows him and he can. 

“Oh, Spock.” Nyota runs her hands down the back of Spock’s head like she knows he likes it. 

“Have you come to tell me you will be joining your family in Nairobi?” Spock finally asks.

Nyota frowns. “You think I would get all dolled up and fuck your brains out to tell you no?”

“You have employed similar tactics in the past,” he reminds her.

“I… Well damn. I guess I have. But wait a moment, like you haven’t?” Nyota laughs and throws her arms around his shoulders and kisses him again. “No, my darling Spock. I’m here to tell you that I would love to stay with you over the summer.”

Spock tightens his grip around Nyota and breathes in the scent of her hair. He cannot tell her what emotions he currently experiences; they jumble in his brain and makes him mute. He touches Nyota’s hand and presses his forehead against hers and allows her into his mind. 

He is thankful.


	2. With Help from Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaila facilitates a talk between Nyota and the Doctors Uhura, and Spock reminds Chris he doesn't need meddling in his life. But maybe advice would be welcome.

On Kolar, one is expected to guide inexperienced clan sisters to what makes them happy. Help them find the various joys of the mind and body so when they come of age they know themselves and what they want completely.

When a clan sister knows what she wants but refrains, healers are called to attend to the ill individual, for surely the rejection of happiness is a twisting, insidious sickness that only grows in the darkness of despair.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call a healer? One of your doctors?” Gaila offers Nyota, who has been pacing for the past ten minutes.

“Gaila, no,” Nyota says. “I just need to figure this out.”

“You look sick to your stomach,” Gaila says.

“Thanks.”

Gaila has spent two years on Earth and still does not understand how such a backward people managed warp capability. She’s learned now to refrain from calling Humans backward, but sometimes they can’t see what’s right in front of them due to their own hands.

Backwards.

Gaila continues to watch Nyota pace and wonders if she shouldn’t call for a healer anyway. New steps of the recently born, she recalls Nyota telling her. A phrase Humans use when they must develop in areas that make them uncomfortable, Gaila finds. New steps are for the young _and_ the old, she considers. How else does one learn new dances and find new places?

But Nyota Uhura is not like most people, Gaila muses. She remembers _the day they first met; Gaila was in a bad mood because she had been talked down to and sexually propositioned by people she had no interest in sleeping with. It was her body and her choice, no matter what sort of foolish beliefs Humans have of Kolari. Orions, they’re called on this planet._

_Regardless she is Gaila of Kolar, and spreads her legs for no one but herself._

_Irritated and less than a step away from running from the building to the nearest shuttle heading in the direction of her home planet or beyond, Gaila opens the door and sees a beautiful, brown young Human with big brown eyes and dark hair that shines black and brown depending on the light. So many browns on one body. Like a forest turning in on itself to sleep and renew._

_But she braces herself to be disappointed. Humans are not alone in the universe but they persist in thinking their ways and their averages are normal._

_Gaila is not human._

_“I am Gaila. Yes, I am… Orion,” she says in Standard as best she can. “Tell me now if you don’t want me as a roommate. I am carrying everything I own and I don’t want to put it down if I’m going to move. Again,” she says._

_This Nyota Uhura rises from the bed and goes to take one of her bags. Gaila holds on tightly; their weight in her hands is the only thing keeping her from crying._

_“Please don’t try and steal from me. Orions are stronger than Humans,” she says. “I don’t want to hurt you.”_

_Nyota stops. “I do not wish to divest you of your belongings,” she says in perfect Kolari. “I wish to welcome you. I want you to be free to find your happiness here.”_

_Gaila drops her bags and sobs._

Nyota is more than a friend, she is a clan sister most trusted, and her clan sister needs assistance.

“Nyota,” Gaila says as she rises from the bed and grabs the woman. “Nyota, sit down,” she says calmly. Damn those suppressants, she thinks. How exhausting is it to have to calm someone by words alone? What are words? “How do you live with such fear of your parents?” she asks. 

Nyota struggles to breathe and stops to frown. “What?” 

“You are obviously afraid of your parents,” Gaila says, gesturing at the knotted fingers of Nyota’s hand. “How have you lived your life thus far with such terror?”

“I’m not… I’m not afraid of them, exactly. It’s not that. I just… I’m used to being the good girl in the family,” Nyota admits.

“And you staying here makes you bad?” Gaila asks, crouching at Nyota’s feet. 

“No! Well, for the reason I’m staying… I guess…” Nyota falls backward and groans. “I am an adult,” she wails.

“…Yes,” Gaila agrees.

“And I can do whatever I want,” Nyota says.

“You can,” Gaila agrees again. This is the direction she wants Nyota to take. This is good.

“But what am I going to tell my parents?” Nyota screeches. 

“That you’re remaining in San Francisco because you would like to see how it feels to spend time in close quarters with your partner,” Gaila says. 

“I can’t say that.”

“Why not? It is the truth.”

“Yes, but you can’t just tell your parents that. I mean, Humans usually can’t just tell their parents that.”

“Why not?” Gaila asks. 

“Parents tend to think you’re a child, even when you’re grown up and have children of your own. My brother, Kamau, has a wife and two children and he’s still treated like a child by my parents sometimes. They can’t help it.”

Gaila wrinkles her nose. “They should, it sounds barbaric.”

Nyota chuckles and sits back up. “I guess so,” she says. “But I’m the youngest and I’m only twenty-one, in a few months I’ll be twenty-two.”

“You’ve spent twenty-two years not doing what makes you happy?” Gaila is beyond horrified, she wants to cry tears of courage for Nyota to drink and take into her soul. “ _Ola ʃol_ ,” she says.

“Happiness is sacred. Yeah, I wish that was a sentiment more universally felt here, but it’s not. And I’m not afraid of my parents,” she says.

Gaila is unconvinced. 

“It’s true. It’s not about fear. It’s about the dread of disappointing them. I like parental approval. It makes me feel good,” Nyota says. “I guess can’t be Mommy and Daddy’s little girl for the rest of my life,” she mutters.

“No, you can’t,” Gaila says. “Because one day you want to be Spock’s and you want Spock to be yours.”

“Gaila,” Nyota hisses, and now Gaila laughs because saying Spock’s name makes Nyota smile uncontrollably when they’re alone. 

“Do you want me to make you some tea to settle your nerves?” she offers.

“Tea sounds amazing.” Nyota’s smile turns suspicious. “What _kind_ of tea?” she asks. 

“Relaxing tea,” Gaila says.

“Gaila…” 

“What?” Gaila rises to her feet and spins. “Something to loosen your tongue and mind and even your body! You know, I took this very same tea before I had the biggest penis of my life. Well, anally, anyway.”

“I don’t need to be drugged when I have this conversation. _If_ I have this conversation,” Nyota groans. 

“No, you just have to have courage. Tell me; is Spock worth it?” Gaila does not roll her eyes at the grin that splits Nyota’s face. 

“He is,” she admits.

“Then get on that comm and tell your parents you’re not coming because you want to be pleasured by a specific Vulcan penis for the next six weeks.” Gaila snatches Nyota’s comm from the desk and keys the command to call Doctor and Doctor Uhura. “There, it’s sending the call,” Gaila says as she throws it to Nyota.

“Gaila!” Nyota screeches and grabs the device. “I’m going to – Mama! Hi, how are you?” she asks, her voice softening. 

“I’m going to leave you alone,” Gaila says, and leans into the camera’s view so she can wave at Nyota’s mother. “Hi, Doctor Uhura!”

M’Umbha beams and waves. “ _Did you get that package I sent you_?”

“I did! The kelp shea butter works great on my skin, thank you,” Gaila says. “I have to go, I’m going to be late meeting a friend of mine for relaxation sex.”

“Oh my god,” Nyota mumbles in mortification. 

“ _Have fun!_ ”

“I’m sure I will. Bye!” Gaila does not skip on her way out the door, but she’s pretty pleased with herself. Assisting a clan sister buoys the spirit like only sex and revenge can. 

But nothing beats revenge sex.

***

“I am so sorry about that, Mama,” Nyota says, slipping into Swahili. “I can literally feel my face burning off with embarrassment.”

“ _My darling you should be used to such customs. She is only being herself. I find it quite refreshing, her honesty._ ”

Nyota wonders if the whole universe is out to get her. “Um, I just wanted to know how you and Baba are doing,” she says, stalling for time.

M’Umbha frowns and tilts her head. “ _Why do you sound nervous_?” she asks. “ _Is something wrong_?”

“No, not really. I just… I wanted to talk to you about this summer,” Nyota says.

M’Umbha squints at her daughter but nods slowly. “ _Yes, I noticed you haven’t confirmed your ticket. Do we need to change the date or time_?”

“Mama, about that. I… I need to stay in San Francisco for the summer,” Nyota says in a rush. “It’s –”

M’Umbha interrupts with a laugh. “ _My angel, say no more. I knew this was going to happen eventually_.”

Nyota blinks. “…You did?” she squeaks. “How?”

“ _You’re getting older, and you’re very talented. It was bound to happen. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Someone should’ve snapped you up your first year_ ,” she says.

Nyota can barely breathe. “You…” Her brain stutters. “I – I don’t know what to say.”

“ _Your father and I raised you to expect this_.”

“What?” Nyota asks weakly.

“ _A special project_.” M’Umbha beams. “ _Don’t work too hard but do your best. Instructors talk amongst themselves and if you display superior work ethic and dedication to detail I’m sure people will be clamoring to work with you_.”

Nyota’s heart is beating so wildly in her chest she thinks she’s going to keel over and slip to the floor. “You…” She blinks and tries to get her brain to work correctly. “Thank you for being so understanding,” she manages to get out. 

“ _My darling, don’t worry. There will be plenty of summers before that ship of yours is done. Your father and I can see you another time. This is important_ ,” M’Umbha says.

_You don’t know how important_ , Nyota thinks. “Thanks, Mama. Tell Baba I’ll talk to him later, okay?”

“ _Of course_.” M’Umbha blows Nyota a kiss and ends the call. 

As soon as her mother’s face disappears from view Nyota falls over onto her side on her bed and lets the padd drop from her fingers. She’s just lied to her parents and that’s horrible. 

What kind of child lies to their parents?

“I’m a horrible human being,” Nyota says to the ceiling. 

***

“You haven’t said much,” Chris says. 

“I don’t have much to say,” Spock replies. 

“It’s awkward to sit here with no conversation.” Chris gestures at the other diners, quietly eating and conversing pleasantly. “It looks out of place.”

“I have no need to appear _in place_ ,” Spock says. “I also do not feel compelled to make small talk when it is not necessary, and it is rarely thus.”

Chris clenches his jaw as he regards Spock from across the table. “You’re still angry about your proposal?”

“Anger is an illogical emotion,” Spock says.

“But you _are_ angry.”

Spock’s nostrils flare. “I experienced displeasure at the thought that you had interfered in my professional business,” he says. 

“What are you talking about?”

“The Admiral Komack rejected my proposal and stated that I needed to enjoy my vacation period so I may ensure I was refreshed for the autumn term. I am Vulcan and my endurance levels differ from Humans.”

“So you keep saying, Spock.”

“Because I do not believe you listen,” he says. “I understand my limits better than anyone and I am not so illogical that I would push myself beyond acceptable parameters. You are not my parents, Christopher.”

Chris twists his glass between his fingers for a moment before nodding. “I’m sorry, Spock. I just wanted to do what was right by you.”

“You continuously forget that I am not Human,” Spock says. “In small, subtle ways that make it very difficult to confront due to my inability to correctly gauge Human emotional responses to criticism.” He swallows and fights reacting to the sensation of itchiness on the backs of his hands and on his neck. 

“I’m sorry, Spock. I guess in trying to make you feel at home and not alien I went too far in the other direction,” Chris says. 

“Christopher, I do not mind being _alien_. The definition is apt and I have no quarrel with the word. I would appreciate you respecting my decisions especially when it pertains to my time and my life.” Spock adjusts the salad fork beside his plate so it ran parallel to the bread knife. 

“That request is more than fair. Just… You may have to tell me when I’ve gone overboard or I’ve made you uncomfortable,” Chris says. 

“I will,” Spock says.

“I know you will,” Chris mutters good-naturedly. “Would you like me to speak with Komack? Get him to reconsider your suggestion?”

“There is no need,” Spock says. 

“Pardon me, gentlemen. One pesto risotto with mushrooms.” The young Human female places a plate before Spock with a perfunctory smile. “And Linguine with Gorgonzola, Prosciutto, and Spinach for the distinguished gentleman,” she says with a lingering smile for Chris. 

“The service here is absolutely lovely, isn’t it Spock?” Chris asks as he grins at the waitress, who blushes and turns to go back to work. 

“I will have a more accurate answer at the end of the meal,” Spock says as he begins to consume his food. “Am I correct in understanding the waiter was perhaps interested in pursuing a relationship with you?”

“Relationship? Probably not. But you never know. There as a spark,” Chris admits as he tucks into his meal. “Sometimes that’s all it takes to make you want to take the chance.” Spock says nothing and Chris deflates just a little. I’m going to have to keep apologizing, aren’t I?” he asks. 

“There is no logic in apologies when the offense is repeated,” Spock says.

Chris sighs and hangs his head. “You’re right, you’re right,” he says. 

Spock nods once and begins his meal, appreciating the subtle flavors of the dish for approximately four minutes and ten seconds when he decides Chris has endured enough. “I have new plans for the summer,” Spock announces.

Chris’ eyes widen as his fork hovers between his face and plate. “What kind of plans?” he asks suspiciously. 

“Plans of a prolonged nature with another individual.” Spock returns to his food.

“Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

Spock pauses. “I have requested my partner join me during the break.” Spock resumes eating and does not reveal the pleasure he experiences watching Chris attempt not to pry. “The dish you suggested is acceptable,” he says. 

There is the smallest of grins quirking Spock’s lips and Chris squints at him. “Did you have these new plans when you were mad at me for talking to Komack?” 

“Indeed. I believe now you have been delivered your order correctly,” Spock says, his tone almost prim. 

Chris looks down at his food in confusion as he mouths what Spock has just said and laughs as realization dawns. “Serves me right,” he crows. “Well damn, I guess it does.” He chuckles. “So where are you going?”

“I have not finished my meal,” Spock says. 

Chris sighs. “I meant, where are you going to take your significant other this summer?” 

Spock blinks. “…To my apartment,” he says. Chris’ expression grows pained. “That is not sufficient?”

“That’s a very different step than what we discussed,” he says. “That’s… that’s moving in with each other. Are you sure you’re ready for that? On Earth that’s considered a very important stage.”

Spock considers himself ready to make Nyota his wife; moving in is pedestrian in comparison. “I considered all known variables before approaching her with the request.”

“And she was okay with that? Moving in with you for the summer?”

“She required a period of time to consider.”

Chris nods. “Wow. The training wheels are off,” he mutters.

Spock frowns. “You speak of a manually operated bike?”

“Nevermind, Spock.” Chris resumes eating but Spock now wants to discuss previous comments. “So, do you have anything planned?”

Spock considers. He cannot tell Christopher that he anticipates keeping Nyota naked and well fed so she may have enough energy for long coitus sessions. “We have many activities that we like to do together,” he says. 

“Such as?”

“She and I have periods where we catch up on the journals of our varied and shared interests.”

Chris nods slowly. “And?”

“We both appreciate a wide variety of music. We listen to pieces and discuss our appreciation or disapproval and then research societal trends during the period of its publishing.” 

“That all sounds like things you do _in_ the apartment,” Chris says.

“Affirmative.” When Nyota comes over Spock rarely comprehends a reason to leave unless Nyota expresses an event or location she wishes to visit. 

“That’s fine for short periods of time but you might become bored. Hell, _she_ might become bored. Is she Human?” Chris asks. 

Spock takes a swallow of his lemon water and regards his friend. “I have stated in a previous conversation that she who is my partner is Human.”

“Well I forgot.”

“Negative. Your tone is the one you employ when you wish to ascertain information through subterfuge.”

“I hate it when you’re observant.”

“Christopher, I am _always_ observant,” Spock says.

Chris merely looks at him until he finishes chewing. “You might want to take her some places, Spock. Does she like to go out?”

“I am content to agree to her suggestions when it comes to planned outings,” Spock says. Again, he cannot tell Chris that he would never leave his apartment if Nyota would allow. 

“That’s a step in the right direction,” Chris notes. “Just make sure you pay attention. Some women like to hint around instead of saying exactly what they want.”

“Is that the reason you concluded your romantic relationship with Captain Holcombe?” Spock asks. 

“Part of it. My work comes first and some women have a problem with that.”

Spock is very glad that Nyota has her own work and prioritizes it accordingly. It makes it easier for Spock to do the same without concern. “That is a problem I have yet to experience in this relationship.”

“Lucky,” Chris grumbles. “All I’m saying is you may want to plan some really nice events to go to. Have some dinners planned. Find out what she does when she’s not around you and that should give you some ideas.”

“I could ask her,” Spock says.

Chris swallows and nods. “You could, but it’s seen as more romantic when you make some suggestions yourself. It means you’ve been listening and paying attention and that you have enough confidence to act on your knowledge.”

“I will consider your words,” Spock says. “I wish to finish my meal before it grows cold.” 

Chris chuckles. “It’s been decades since I’ve been told to shut up and eat,” he says as he picks up his fork. 

Spock’s eyebrow rises with his incredulity. “Fascinating.”


	3. Underwear or Boundaries & Being Helpful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaila saves Nyota from the disappointing horrors of boring underwear, Pike is human and Spock is attentive.

“What are you doing?”

Gaila turns from Nyota’s open suitcase to see the woman herself return from retrieving a borrowed dress from Ensign Lewis from down the hall. “Nyota, you know I love you, right?” From what Gaila sees she’s going to have to remind her almost-clan-sister that she’s not returning to her family this summer. Her proposed wardrobe is unacceptable and boring. 

“Yes,” Nyota says, narrowing her eyes as she moves closer. “Still haven’t told me why you’re snooping around my stuff.”

“So, believe me when I say this comes from a place of love and respect,” Gaila says. 

Nyota’s expression turns bemused. “What is it, Gaila?”

“Your underwear does not inspire lust. It says… nothing. It is quiet underwear.” Gaila says it all in a rush, to get the bad news over with. 

Nyota blinks then frowns as she glances at her suitcase. “Well, not _all_ of it is boring,” she claims.

“It’s all white.” Gaila shakes her head sadly. “The color looks good on you, nice use of contrast and everything, but you’ve got no excitement. No exclamations.”

“But did you see…” Nyota shoves past Gaila with mock indignation, “these?” With pride she produces a pair of boy shorts and a strappy camisole in black. With white lace trim.

“My clan mother’s clan mother would not use those to seduce a non-sentient creature.” Gaila shakes her head and wonders why Humans don’t have their own classes about pleasure and the art of erotic presentation. If Nyota wasn’t so dear to her Gaila may have thought the whole situation was amusing. 

Instead it’s just unfortunate. 

“…Spock finds my choice of undergarments pleasing,” Nyota says defensively. 

“But this is different and you want to create surprise in his loins, correct? To make it difficult for him to keep his hands and tongue from your body and its various orifices?” Gaila smiles knowingly at the shift in Nyota’s scent. Finally, something other than guilt or nervousness. 

Nyota’s hand flutters up to touch the back of her neck. “Gaila,” she says, scandalized.

“What. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Maybe,” she admits. 

“Then will you let me help you? Can burn your logical undergarments?” Gaila asks. 

“There’s nothing wrong with my underwear. I’m not going to burn them, I like them,” Nyota says firmly. 

“Great,” Gaila says, her shoulders slumping. Her almost-clan-sister is going to reduce herself to subpar sex and never grow in her own pleasure, dooming herself to wither and - 

“But I can see the reason in buying more.”

Gaila turns back to Nyota and squeals. “We’re going shopping,” she crows. 

One year into Gaila’s relocation to Earth she manages to find one of the few places that made her think Humans weren’t a lost cause; a lingerie store called Heavy Bette’s. They have everything under the sun to fit every type of body in a roughly humanoid shape. Gaila can and has spent many hours and thousands of credits inside of its walls. The staff is friendly and knowledgeable, the dressing rooms are large and welcoming and there’s a rule; fellow shoppers must be enthusiastically supportive, no shaming in Heavy Bette’s. 

Gaila breathes deeply at the wonderful scent of people relaxed and shopping. Happy, happy pheromones. “Wow,” Nyota says next to her. “Goodness, is this where you spend a lot of your time?”

“You have no idea,” Gaila says. “Hey, Bette!” She waves at a woman with greying hair and clear brown skin as she adjusts a corset on a bust. The woman pauses to squint before she straightens and waves. Bette is a tall, older woman with a knowing twinkle in her eye and a friendly smile. Gaila likes her because Bette treats everyone like people, even if you’re not Human and celebrates all types of beauty.

And her thighs are majestic. 

“Gaila, my favorite girl! How are you? Are you liking those banana flavored underwear you tried last time?” Bette asks. 

Gaila’s eyes widen as she remembers. “I sure did. The flavor is really interesting, but it’s not always me eating them off of someone. I’ve gotten enthusiastic thumbs up, and thumbs in other places, too.”

Bette titters. “That’s my girl.” She glances at Nyota. “And who is this beauty?”

“This is my friend, Nyota; she’s really in need of some of your expertise,” Gaila says.

“I don’t _need_ help,” Nyota hisses.

“Her underwear is so boring,” Gaila says. 

“It isn’t, but I am willing to consider some alternatives,” she tells Bette.

“You are gorgeous, did you know that?” Bette asks with a smile.

Nyota chuckles but nods. “I do, thank you,” she says. 

“Good,” Bette says with a wink. “We should all know we’re beautiful. I’ve got some cuts that’ll really flatter you, Nyota. Gaila, you know the drill. I’ll pull some pieces and you two ladies can look around and grab some stuff and head to a dressing room.”

“Aye, Captain!” Gaila fires off a smart assed salute and tugs Nyota through the store. 

“You’re a VIP aren’t you?” Nyota asks as she allows herself to be pulled through the store. 

“Absolutely. I don’t do anything partial buttock,” Gaila says. “I’m going to help you find the sexy you,” she promises her almost clan sister.

“I… Ugh. Nevermind,” Nyota says. 

Gaila grabs from shelves and racks happily, burying Nyota under a growing mound of lace and straps and pull away panels. She doesn’t ask what anything is, especially after she realizes she might be a little out of her depth. Honestly, Nyota doesn’t put too much thought into her underwear. It needs to support and cover and being a pretty color doesn’t hurt. 

And she does have more than just white underwear, contrary to what Gaila believes… or saw in her suitcase. Nyota knows that Spock has an appreciation for contrasting and complimentary colors and he doesn’t get bored, so why not?

Soon Gaila is leading Nyota around because she can’t see through the mound of clothes she’s carrying. “Gaila, I don’t think I can hold much more,” she warns.

“Humans are weak and I’m constantly surprised you achieved warp.”

“So you keep telling me,” Nyota says. 

“I’m ignoring all of your negativity. I think we’ve got enough to start,” Gaila says as she pulls Nyota into a dressing room.

“To start?” Nyota groans. “Gaila…”

“You’ll thank me between your second and third orgasm,” Gaila promises as she takes the clothes from Nyota’s arms.

“Three orgasms? You don’t know Spock, that’s just Tuesday.” Nyota tries not to look smug as Gaila looks skeptically impressed. 

“Just… try this on.” Gaila throws a blue number in Nyota’s face and tries not to laugh.

Nyota tries on a slinky blue gown that hits her thigh and ties on each side, a green bustier made of lace and plastic boning, a white teddy, and a complicated red leather bikini style top with an asymmetric collar. 

“That one makes your breasts look smaller than they are.” Gaila wrinkles her nose and shakes her head from where she’s looking over Nyota’s shoulder at Nyota’s mirror reflection. “Next.”

“It’s not like I’m well endowed,” Nyota mutters as she turns back and forth in the mirror. 

“No, but you’ve got amazing legs and your breasts are nicely formed, though small.” Gaila begins to undo the complex web of satin ribbons at Nyota’s back. “Get out of that and try _this_ on.” She holds up a black vinyl corset with red seams. “This will make him go crazy.”

Gaila is going to push as long as Nyota doesn’t push back; two hours fly by and they have a growing heap of underwear, loungewear and negligées that are definitely in the _buy_ pile. If Gaila and Bette have done their jobs then Nyota won’t be wearing any of it for long. 

At least Gaila hopes Nyota won’t. Despite the small tidbit Nyota let slip, Gaila still has trouble trying to imagine Commander Spock as a sensual and sexual being. Her brain just doesn’t supply the pictures, and she can picture almost _anyone_ having sex. 

Weird. 

Gaila rises out of her reverie as she catches Nyota’s wince as Gaila ties her into the corset with enthusiastic tugging. “I can’t breathe,” Nyota mutters.

“Good.” Gaila leans close and concentrates on the lacing. It’s delicate and Spock can put those long fingers to use and undo it all.

“How is that good?” Nyota asks.

“You can speak so you can breathe, calm down.” Gaila grins and tugs on a specific lace. “Better?”

Nyota yelps and breathes deeply. “Yes. But it’s still tight.”

“Quit whining. You’re going to knock his pants off,” Gaila promises.

“Socks,” Nyota says absently as she’s pushed toward the mirrors. 

“Why bother with his socks? Does the commander enjoy having his feet pleasured?”

Nyota opens her mouth to respond but she catches her reflection and words flee. She’s got more cleavage than she’s ever had before and it looks… “Alright,” Nyota admits as she fights her growing grin. “I look good. And it doesn’t feel too bad now.”

“Amazing what the sight of your own cleavage will do to your spirits.” Gaila admires her handy work. “Are you sure you don’t want to have sex just to try the corset out?”

Nyota shakes her head. “No, but thank you.”

Gaila likes to make sure Nyota knows that sex is on the table; they might be like clan sisters but they’re not, and Nyota really does have amazing legs and a beautiful smile and Gaila likes to watch when Nyota practices enunciation. Besides, contrary to lazy and persistent ignorance, Orions are very selective about whom they decide to sleep with. “I’m glad you came shopping. Are you feeling better?”

Nyota’s eyes widen and she laughs, but it sounds off. “I’m feeling fine,” she says.

“You threw up yesterday,” Gaila says.

“It was just… I felt so nervous and guilty and nervous again.”

“There, I’m done.” Gaila helps Nyota lift the corset over her head. “What are you nervous about?” She throws the corset into the _buy_ pile. 

Nyota lets her head loll back and forth as she grabs her bra. “Just… We’ve spent time together, Spock and I,” she says.

“I do remember nights you didn’t come home.” Gaila takes a seat on the bench in the private dressing room. “Every time it happens I fall asleep with a smile on my face because even if you’re not, I can imagine you enjoying good sex.” She laughs at Nyota’s expression.

“Anyway,” Nyota says loudly, “we’ve always got some sort of plan first. Like a date or an event planned. This is days and days and days of being together. What if we get tired of sex?”

Gaila blinks and shakes her head. Poor Nyota; it’s worse than she thought. “I can’t believe I heard you say that. I’ve got this new toy-”

“No.” Nyota shakes her head and yanks her tee shirt over her head. 

“But you don’t even know what it does,” Gaila protests. “It’s got _three_ rotating knobs and this really thin piece you insert-”

“I’m going to pass,” Nyota says. “Really, but no thanks.”

Gaila shrugs; her loss. “Your voice is getting high, like you’re embarrassed by what I’m saying. Or is it you’re embarrassed because you’re thinking about how to use it?”

“Gaila.”

“Spock would probably think toys are _illogical_ anyway, so I shouldn’t waste the good stuff on him. Or on you. You both deserve each other.”

Nyota can’t help the wide smile that feels as if it’s going to split her face. “You think?’ she asks.

Gaila relaxes a bit as the scent of anxiety begins to dissipate. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Nyota says. “For everything. Especially making me realize I could stand to spice up my underwear game.”

“A game I take very seriously,” Gaila says. “You know, if you won’t take any toys I could show you some dances. You’re really good at dancing, you can pick it up in two days. I can give you moves that will have Spock panting in a lust filled haze.”

“That might be too much,” Nyota laughs. “So, in my efforts to show my thanks how about I take you to lunch?”

“I can always eat,” Gaila says. Her stomach rumbles and she recollects she skipped breakfast in favor of more sleep. 

“And you can come with me to Tabia’s and get your hair done?”

Gaila squeals and jumps up and down. Tabia’s Braiding Salon is Nyota’s favorite hair salon and Gaila cannot remember a time she felt so much at home amongst people who weren’t Kolari. Happy, fabulous women talking about everything and anything with no shame and no fear. Not to mention the only place that doesn’t set out to obliterate her curl pattern. 

“I’m confused,” Nyota teases. “Is that a yes?”

Gaila squeaks happily.

“Come on,” Nyota laughs. 

***

All attempts to meditate fail. 

Nyota Uhura, the one whom he holds in the highest of esteem and loves with all his being, will merge households with him for eight weeks. 

_You will fornicate on every available surface_ , his traitorous brain supplies. The image of Nyota, bent over his counter, impaled upon his _lok_ overrides the desire to maintain cleanliness. Yes, Spock considers. He will have her on every counter. He will take her on the balcony and allow her melodious voice soar in the night air so all may hear her cries of delight. 

Her body is a temple and he will worship thrice daily. More, if Nyota’s eagerness holds. Spock nearly groans as he palms himself through his meditation pants. This will not work. There is only thirty-two hours before his home will be _theirs_.

Spock is alone, thus he allows himself a brief smile. He attempts to settle in to renew his efforts at meditation when his comm chimes, notifying him of an incoming call. Apparently circumstances are occurring in such an order to delay his meditation.

He rises from his position and makes his way to the living room. “Call on screen,” he says. 

“ _Spock, my darling. How are you_?” Amanda Grayson smiles from the screen and Spock feels a rush of affection for his mother. 

“I am well. How do you fare, mother?” He asks as he sits before his comm unit. 

“ _I’ve been busy, you know, with this and that. Balancing my work and your father’s job_.” Amanda squints. “ _You look thin, Spock. Are you not taking adequate time to eat_?”

“I have lost four ounces of weight since we last spoke. Surely you could not detect such a slight fluctuation,” Spock says.

“ _Yet I did. Please try not to skip meals. It isn’t healthy for you and you get all wrapped up in whatever project you’ve got before you and everything else falls to the wayside_.”

“Mother, surely you did not call to remind me to monitor my caloric intake,” he says.

“ _I wanted to know if you were going to come home this summer_ ,” Amanda says. “ _I would like to see you_.”

“I have duties that require my presence here on Earth,” Spock says. It is not a falsehood; his relationship with Nyota is extremely important to him and he will do what he needs to ensure her health, happiness and safety. 

“ _That was your excuse two years ago. The only reason you returned home last year was because your father was on Rigel IV and did not return until your departure._ ”

“Fortuitous,” Spock says. “But merely circumstantial. It would be illogical for me to harbor any lingering emotional response to Father and his opinion of my life choices.”

“ _My Vulcan men will be the death of me_ ,” Amanda groans. 

Spock decides not to respond to such a wild hyperbole. “Is there anything you require, Mother?” he asks.

“ _No, I guess not. I had hoped to see you, is all_.”

Spock hesitates. “You are… missed,” he says, and opens the familial bond so his mother can experience the affection he has for her. 

“ _My Spock. Such a sweet talker. I won’t keep you, but please make sure you take care of yourself_.” Amanda blows him a kiss and ends the call, leaving Spock to stare at the blank screen momentarily. 

There are a few emotions he is experiencing concurrently. Spock wonders if he should tell his parents about Nyota. She is very important to him and he enjoys having her in his life. The last person he told his mother about was - .

Immaterial; it did not end well.

Any lingering traces of lust evaporate as if never there, and Spock sighs. 

At least her memory has its uses.

***

Nyota’s copying the last of her files when the door to Spock’s office opens to admit Captain Pike. “Sir,” she yelps on the double take, rising from her seat to give a salute. 

“At ease, Ensign, please. I see the commander isn’t in,” Pike says as he glances around the room. “I’m surprised, he’s always working.”

Nyota nods and tries to calm her nerves. “I’m sure wherever he is, he’s working,” she says as she checks her padd for receipt of the files. 

“What are you doing?”

Nyota puts a calm and pleasant smile on her face. “I’ve received a few translations to work on from Commander Spock over the summer break, and I have personal translations I’ve been working on in my free time,” she says.

“That’s just not right,” Pike says. “Want me to talk to him for you?”

Nyota blinks. “Oh, no,” she says. “It’s not necessary. I enjoy translation work and it keeps me on my toes while on break.”

“Slightly oxymoronic, but to each their own.” He sighs and bounces on the balls of his feet. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Have a good day, Captain.” Nyota’s smile turns stiff when Pike pauses at the door and turns to look at her appraisingly. “Is there something else I could help you with?” she offers.

“You know the commander pretty well, right?” Pike asks. 

Nyota opens her mouth and closes it. “I would like to think I do,” she says. 

“As well as someone can know Spock, probably. He’s spoken about you before,” he says.

“He… has?” Nyota’s infinitely thankful her voice isn’t shaking. “Should I be worried? 

“No, nothing bad.” Pike chuckles.

“What did he say?”

“That your work is consistently satisfactory,” Pike deadpans.

Nyota can’t help but laugh. “I wonder what I did to get such a gushing review.” 

“I can’t remember, but he doesn’t give such praise often,” Pike says. 

“No, he doesn’t,” Nyota agrees with a nod. 

“So something occurs to me.”

Nyota wonders if Captain Pike can see her heart beat through her ribcage. “What’s that, sir?” she asks.

“You probably know his girlfriend.”

Nyota swallows and feels as if she may faint. “His girlfriend?” she asks. 

Pike looks at her for a moment and chuckles. “That shows how tired _I_ am,” he says. “Nevermind, Ensign. Have a good night and at least try to enjoy your summer vacation.”

“Aye, Captain. You, too.” Nyota inclines her head and waits until the door closes behind Captain Pike before she allows herself to fall back into her seat and giggle nervously. There’s nothing like the rush of almost getting caught to make you want to laugh inappropriately. 

Nyota takes a deep breath and powers down her terminal and leaves before anyone else jumps out of the woodwork to interrogate her about Spock’s love life. 

On the way back to her dorm Nyota realizes she never really considered what Spock would say or do when he’s asked about any relationship. They both agreed that if they were still dating after she graduated they would notify proper channels of their relationship, but that’s still two years away. 

What does he tell Pike, someone he’s relatively close to?

Does he lie? 

Nyota rejects that idea outright; the thought of Spock lying seems disingenuous even within her own head. She keys in the code to the dorm building and takes the stairs to burn off the excess energy built up. If she doesn’t she’ll never sleep and tomorrow…

Tomorrow’s the big day.

Entering her floor she sees half of a body leaning out of her and Gaila’s room. From the butt it looks like… one James Kirk. He straightens so Nyota can see his profile and from her vantage point he isn’t exactly happy. “Just… let us know if you change your mind, okay?”

Nyota hears Gaila’s quiet _okay_ , and their door closes, leaving Jim running his fingers through his hair and looking concerned. He turns his bright blue eyes on Nyota and brightens just a little as she approaches. “Caroline,” he calls. “There you are.”

“Name’s not Caroline.” Nyota rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I’m surprised you’re still here,” she says. 

Jim cocks his head and grins. “Not by choice, believe me. I’m waiting on Bones to get done with his final rotation at Starfleet Medical and then we’re hitting the road. Two weeks in Georgia and then we’re hitting Cabo.”

Nyota’s amused at the enthusiasm practically radiating from him. “No Iowa?” she asks. 

Jim’s face contorts into disgust before he can smooth it with over-nonchalance. “Not this year,” he says, and jerks his head toward Nyota’s room. “Maybe you can get Gaila to come with us.”

Nyota frowns. “She’s got plans of her own; why would I do that?”

“Her trip fell through,” Jim says.

“Shit,” Nyota says. “I’ll cheer her up. But I’m not going to promise I’m going to make her come with you. Sometimes people just want to wallow in disappointment before moving on,” she says. “Now go away.”

“You’re a peach, Marilyn,” Jim says as he jogs backward toward the exit. 

“I don’t even like peaches,” Nyota calls after him, chuckling slightly. Once inside she sees Gaila’s suitcases, already packed but knocked over. “Gaila,” she calls out, righting them before moving further into the room. 

Gaila’s on her bed, crossed-legged and furiously typing on her padd, her bright red hair in swirling cornrows swirling in complex patterns on her head, leading to a cascade of shining red ringlets. “Hey, Nyota,” she says absently. 

“What happened? Jim told me your trip fell through,” Nyota says carefully as she puts her padd down on the end of her bed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m furious,” Gaila says. “We’re due on the shuttle tomorrow morning and I find out it’s cancelled. Not only that, but I’m out of my money! No refund.”

“That’s really screwed up,” Nyota asks. “You should be able to report the travel agency.”

Gaila sighs loudly. “It wasn’t one of the major travel agencies,” she admits. “It was a discounted trip arranged through a guy I met.”

“Gaila, I’m so sorry,” Nyota says. 

“I handed over four thousand credits for a trip I researched and know it costs closer to ten. I thought I had found a deal. But he’s cheated me and about seventy other people out of our money.” She groans and throws her comm on the bed beside her. “I didn’t want this to be real. I had messaged the shuttle company to – you know what, it doesn’t even matter. 

“He’s gone with our money. That’s it. I’ve got a program working to find him. Filtering through social media and running face rec. When I find him, and I _will_ find him, I hope he still has every penny or I’m going to beat it out of him.”

“I don’t even know what to say. Are you going to be okay?” Nyota asks as her padd beeps. She sighs and grabs it to pull up the messages. 

“I was just really looking forward to going to Risa. I don’t like thieves.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry.” Nyota crosses the room and opens her arms. “Could I interest you in any cuddling?” she asks. 

“Is it pity cuddling?” Gaila asks. 

“No, absolutely not.” Nyota shakes her head firmly. 

“But I _want_ pity cuddles right now.”

“Then it’s all the pity cuddles you can possibly stand,” Nyota says, not missing a beat. 

Gaila pouts and nods, scooting over to allow Nyota to crowd close. As soon as Nyota is comfortable Gaila throws her arms around her and buries her nose in Nyota’s hair, done up in a similar style. “Look at me, fabulous hair and nowhere to go,” Gaila wails mournfully. 

“I saw Kirk on the way out; he said he invited you to go with him and Leonard?” Nyota presses her cheek against Gaila’s.

“I don’t want to go to Georgia and I don’t want to go to Cabo,” she says as she scowls. “I wanted to go to Risa. Don’t worry about me, I’m going to be fine. I’ll just stick around here.”

Nyota winces. “You can’t, remember? They’re renovating the halls in the dorms.”

“The day gets better and better. Fine. I’ll go down to the Registrar and get signed up for temp housing. At least they won’t touch our rooms.”

“I’m sorry your summer isn’t going to go as planned,” Nyota says. She inhales Gaila’s scent and feels a rush of warm pleasure, like one feels when eating a really good meal with good friends. “You’re off your suppressants, aren’t you?” she murmurs.

“Have to give my body a break or I’ll get sick. Does it bother you?” 

“Nope.” Nyota inhales again and considers falling asleep.” 

“Good. Are you falling asleep?”

“Maybe,” Nyota murmurs. “Is that bad? Does that make me a bad friend?” 

“No. I’m going to get some sleep, too. I’m ready for today to be over.” Gaila nuzzles against Nyota for a moment and sighs. “Do you know what’s better than pity cuddles?” she asks and Nyota begins to giggle.

“I think I do, and I don’t think Spock would like that,” she says as she slips out of Gaila’s grasp.

“He can watch. I’ve found most people like to watch.” 

Nyota makes a noncommittal noise as she contemplates that thought. Does Spock like to watch? Now that she thinks about it she hasn’t ask him if he enjoys voyeurism. Hell, does she? 

Nyota for the shower lost in thought and when she comes out the room is dark and Gaila asleep. Her comm blinks with a notification and Nyota pulls on a pair of shorts and a camisole before climbing into bed and checking her messages. 

_It takes considerable effort to wait for your arrival_.

Nyota sends a quick message back and forces herself to put the comm down and sleep. Tomorrow is a busy day, the last day before her grand adventure. She wants to laugh, the giddiness bubbles out of her and she presses her face into her pillow, muffling the giggles. Soon Spock will be in her arms and …. Exhaustion hits Nyota like an unexpected wave and she drifts to sleep with a smile. 

***

“You’ve been preoccupied.”

Spock takes a swallow of his lemon water and raises an eyebrow. “Have I missed a conversational cue?” 

Chris chuckles dryly and shakes his head. “No,” he admits.

“I do not understand Humans and their predilection to announce that another has thoughts while simultaneously engaging in other activities, especially where performance is not affected.”

Chris opens his mouth and closes it. “I think you enjoy shutting Humans down, Spock,” he says.

“It is not my desire for you to _shut down_ , as you put it. I derive satisfaction in causing enlightenment where there is none.” Spock moves his knight. “Checkmate.”

“Well at least you didn’t announce it at the beginning of the match this time,” Chris says sourly and glances at the whiskey in his glass. “Maybe I shouldn’t drink while I play you. It can’t be helping.”

“Against my previous hypothesis your performance rarely deviates, even while inebriated. Save Tequila,” Spock amends as he begins to put away the pieces.

Chris’s expression is vaguely horrified. “How do I play when I’ve had Tequila?”

“You don’t.” 

Chris’ horror collapses into irritation. “Oh, that reminds me, I ran into your TA earlier,” he says, and finishes off his alcohol. 

Spock barely pauses. “Is this the social cue where I ask you to continue by issuing an utterance with slight incredulity?”

Chris unwinds the sentence in his head and nods. “It would be nice,” he says.

“Take this as that social cue.” Spock returns the chess set to the shelf. 

Chris’ smile is slight. “She was in your office working. You haven’t released her from her duties yet?”

Spock isn’t aware of any work that Nyota would be doing in his office, but she works on many private projects and only informs him when she wishes to present her findings or ask for advice. “Her obligations are varied, and she has superb work ethic.”

“And I’m pretty sure I didn’t disparage her worth ethic. I wanted to pump her for information.”

Spock briefly imagines a handle connecting to Nyota’s spine, and Chris manually manipulating the lever. This does not please him. “Please take my silence as whatever social cue required to continue,” he says.

Chris sighs. “She didn’t know anything. I think I flustered her when I asked, to be honest. You really keep this close to the vest, don’t you?”

Spock is again reaffirmed in his decision to enter into a relationship with Nyota; she is subtle at all times. Even in a situation where her normally straightforward and honest nature would impel her to reveal the nature of their relationship to Chris, she chose to allow him to come to his own conclusions. 

She is brilliant. 

She is Spock’s. 

He almost smiles. 

“I am discreet, is all.” Chris appears unconvinced. Suddenly Spock does not care. “I will take my leave,” Spock says.

“Have I chased you off? I’m sorry, Spock. I’ll stop prying,” Chris says.

“You will not. I have found it quite perplexing that Humans insist on proclaiming things of which they have no intention of doing,” Spock says.

“It’s… all in the efforts to be better people, Spock. We think that maybe if we say something enough times it’ll happen.”

Spock is unsure of what to say, so says nothing.

“Have I overstepped my boundaries?”

“You ask questions to which you already know the answer,” Spock says.

“I guess I deserved that. Alright, Spock, I’m sorry. I’ll try not to pry, and that’s the truth.” Chris rises from his chair and raises his hand in the ta’al.

Spock responds in kind. “Until next time, Christopher.” Spock leaves and walks to the next building in the faculty housing complex, three apartment buildings in a cluster. Once one was inside it is easy to move about from building to building, something Spock did not anticipate when he agreed to reside here. 

After a rocky two month period Spock finds that most of his neighbors and fellow instructors are content to merely grunt a greeting at him or ignore him altogether. Only Christopher Pike takes the pleasure of knocking on his door and leading him around the city, or procuring a meal in either of their apartments. 

Nyota thinks Chris is good for him. Spock is not so sure. 

He enters his apartment and pauses; something disturbs the air. Spock closes the door and concentrates, eventually making out the barely there sound of something breathing. 

On light feet Spock moves forward, forgoing illumination for stealth and cover. More than enough light filters through the windows and he quickly adjusts his vision. Spock follows the sound down the hall toward his bedroom and on an inhale Nyota’s scent fills his nose and his body instantly relaxes.

He triggers the door and finds Nyota curled on his bed, deeply asleep. The moonlight illuminates a mass of coiling braids upon her head and her hand on her face. A rush of affection and longing cascades down Spock’s spine and he suppresses his body’s desire to shiver. 

Spock moves closer and admires his lover’s body in repose, draped in moonlight and slumber. Nyota is beautiful, kind and intelligent. She can have any number of men across species in the galaxy, and yet she chose him. Chooses him daily. Spock is pleased. 

Nyota opens her eyes and glances around, alert, until she sees Spock in the dim light. “Hi,” she says, her voice low and honeyed. She closes her eyes and sits up with a stretch. “Sorry I fell asleep, your bed is so comfortable.”

Spock’s bed is completely normal for one who has the bone density of a Vulcan on Earth. “My bed is only comfortable when you are in it,” he says, and crawls in after her. He moves in slowly and watches as Nyota’s mouth widens in a smile and he closes the distance between them with her consent. It is she that deepens the kiss and they fall to the bed in a haze of rising desire.

Spock enjoys kissing Nyota, likes licking her mouth open and feeling her melt against him, come apart piece by piece. He enjoys feeling her pant into his mouth and the way her hands wander while her mouth is occupied with his. 

Kissing is rather satisfactory. 

Nyota rakes her fingernails up Spock’s neck and through his hair, scratching at the back of his skull, making him shiver and growl. _Mine_ , he thinks. _My mate_. He grinds his hips down and experiences a flash of conceit; only he can make Nyota feel this way. Only _he_ is allowed to touch her like this.

“Spock, Spock, wait,” Nyota pants as she grabs his hands. 

Immediately he sits back so they both may breathe. Spock detects sadness and disappointment through the telepathic connection and it effectively douses his amorous actions. “Apologies,” he says. “ I- ”

“What are you apologizing for?” Nyota interrupts.

“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable,” Spock says, removing his hand from Nyota’s. 

“No _kipenzi_ , you are not the cause of my discomfort,” Nyota says, and reaches for his hand again. 

Spock feels the shape of her emotions, enough to ascertain she is not sparing his feelings. “What is it you wish to discuss?” he asks. 

“I can’t spend the summer with you,” Nyota says. Spock goes to pull his hand away but she holds tightly. “Don’t do that, Spock. Let me explain. Gaila is in need of a place to stay.”

“The academy has housing for those whose dorms are being renovated,” Spock says.

“True, but apparently it’s full and she attempted to get a temporary apartment in the city but…” Nyota sighs. “I swear Humans can be so stupid. She went to four different places, the only four she could afford on such short notice. Two of them made her feel so uncomfortable she just left, another took one look at her and said they had already rented the place and another wanted two thousand credits over what the ad said because, and she quoted, that Orion women are wild and will wreck his place,” Nyota says. 

“That is discrimination and illegal according to –”

“Spock, no. I don’t want to know the exact law. I know it’s wrong and I spent the past couple of hours consoling Gaila. I’m going to rent us a place because I’m Human and therefore, in some places considered better suited to be a renter and by combining credits we’ll have a better pick of neighborhoods.” She looks at Spock and can see the wheels of his mind turning. “What are you thinking about? Are you angry?”

“Angry is not the accurate word,” Spock says quietly. “I am furious that xenophobia will alter our plans this summer. I regret that Cadet Gaila is currently suffering the peculiar sensation one experiences when judged harshly and erroneously by vague perceptions of ones species.” 

“I’m going to need to go,” she murmurs. “We’re going to need to be out of our dorm by eight AM and we’ll probably check into a hotel before we begin looking.” Nyota releases Spock’s hand so she can scoot off of the bed. She straightens her skirt and sends him a strange expression. “I really looked forward to spending the summer with you. I’ll be over here every day, almost. I can’t just leave Gaila alone but I’ll make sure I spend plenty of time here.”

Spock nods. “I will attempt to find a solution to your problem as well,” he says as he follows her to the door. 

“You’re sweet, but that’s okay. We’ve got a plan and we’ll be fine.” Nyota rises onto her toes and gives him a lingering kiss. “I’m going to go before this turns into something else,” she says. 

“Indeed,” Spock says, and releases her into the night.

***

“I’m sorry.”

“…Gaila…” Nyota looks up from her padd and frowns. “Stop it,” she says.

“I can’t help it!” Gaila wails. She can’t tell Nyota the real reason she keeps apologizing. Everyone demands debts be repaid. On Kolar it is unseemly to be indebted to another with no way to pay them back. If no restitution is agreed upon then the owed may take payment however they wished. Many slave trades were made to cover a debt, even random people snatched to cover another’s debt, if they had the means. 

Time after time Gaila has come to find that even people she thought she knew turned into a twisted, ugly thing when they thought she owed them. It’s happened too many times for her to think it won’t happen, as much as she loves Nyota. So she’ll apologize and harden her heart for when Nyota’s eyes turn cold like Kolari water stones, and she’ll have no close friends left on Earth.

Nyota’s comm beeps and she reaches over absently to turn it on. “Hello?”

“ _I have a solution to your problem._ ”

Nyota and Gaila sit up immediately at the sound of Commander Spock’s voice. 

“I told you, you don’t have to do anything,” Nyota says. 

“ _Understood. I did so anyway. I am sending you an address. You may arrive any time after you leave the dormitory and I will meet you there._ ”

Nyota’s padd beeps with the incoming message. “I’ve got it. Thanks, Spock,” she says softly, and Gaila can’t help but grin at the way everything about Nyota, including her pheromones, change when speaking to or about Spock.

Lucky Vulcan. 

“ _Until I see you, Nyota_.”

Gaila’s grin widens as she hears the commander’s tone toward her friend. They are so adorable it’s maddening she can’t tell anyone about them. “So where is he sending us?”

“Doesn’t appear to be a hotel. This is a residential neighborhood.” Nyota shrugs. “That’s all I can find out, actually. No listings, nothing.”

Gaila shrugs. “Well I’m not waiting around for the day to get worse. I’m going to sleep.” She looks over at her luggage, once neatly packed and eager to be on Risa. Oh how plans change. “I’ve got to repack. All I packed were cute shoes and my chlorophyll supplements.”

“Oh Gaila.” Nyota chuckles.


	4. Be It Ever So Humble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock is a problem solver, and connects a bit with Gaila. Also, Exotic Greg.

Nyota lightens the tint on the window until she can see without removing her shades. Gaila crowds close to look the neighborhood as they move past as well. “Gaila,” Nyota laughs. “Get off. You’ve got your own window,” she points out. 

“Yeah, but I’m nosy and want to see what you’re looking at,” Gaila says as she purposefully presses her cheek against Nyota’s, until Nyota begins to poke her in the side. “That doesn’t work on me, remember? But I’ll move back,” she says.

“Thank you.”

“Are you sure we’re going to the right place? Everything looks pretty wealthy out here,” Gaila says.

Nyota is unimpressed. “Spock wouldn’t make a mistake like that,” she remembers to respond. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Wow, look at that house.” 

Nyota begins to turn to see what Gaila is pointing at when the hovertaxi cruises to a stop in front of a large wrought iron fence with a guard box, actually staffed with a live, Human guard. Said guard comes out of his booth and steps to the taxi, muscles bulging under his khaki uniform. “Names,” he says. The cabbie jerks his thumb toward Gaila and Nyota. “Names,” he says at their window. 

“Nyota Uhura and Gaila Zevyvr,” Nyota says, and slides down her sunglasses so he may see her face. 

“Please exit the taxi. You’ll travel to your residence by cart.” The guard opens the door and offers Nyota a hand then helps Gaila out as well. 

“Oh my, aren’t you strong,” Gaila breathes in the way that best displays her cleavage. 

The guard blinks and begins to grin. “I’m just doing my duty. Helping two beautiful women is no trouble at all.”

Gaila titters and Nyota tries not to laugh as the cabbie helps her remove their luggage. 

“Do you think you could help us with our bags?” Gaila asks, pressing her chest against the guard’s forearm. She takes great care to lean forward and peer at his name tag. “Greg? Such an exotic name,” she purrs. 

Nyota coughs to cover her laugh. 

Greg with the exotic name is flushing bright red and can’t nod fast enough. He’s able to lift all six suitcases in two trips and Gaila appears to be appropriately in awe as they’re shown to two carts with the numbers 1105 emblazoned on the back. “Do you ladies know how to pilot one of these?” he asks with an exaggerated wink at Nyota.

“We’ll do just fine, thanks,” Nyota says. She doesn’t bother to tell him she’s certified in seven different classes of shuttles because Exotic Greg is turning back to admire Gaila in her bright white sundress.

“Right,” Greg the exotic turns his grin to Gaila. “Just take the cart down the lane, all houses are numbered. If you need anything just pick up the radio and dial four. I’ll pick up personally,” he tells Gaila. 

“Oh, will you.” Gaila bops Greg on the nose. “I’ll have to remember that. Thank you, Greg,” she murmurs as she sashays toward the cart, Nyota already in the driver’s seat. 

“You, too, Ms. Zevyvr,” Greg calls out.

Nyota rolls her eyes as she pulls off. “Really,” she asks Gaila once they’re out of earshot. 

Gaila shrugs a shoulder and pulls down her shades from her hair. “I need a hobby this summer. Someone to do,” she says, slipping them on.

“Some _thing_ , Gaila. Something.”

“Tomatoes,” Gaila breezes. “Lots of tomatoes.”

Nyota regards their surroundings with interest. The houses are fairly large and mission style; adobe of different colors and tiled roofs with manicured lawns. There were no vehicles on the streets or in the driveways, everyone had a cart like the one Nyota is driving. 

“We’re almost there,” Gaila says. “Eleven oh three, eleven oh four – Oh, here we are!” Gaila bounces in her seat as they turn down a shady drive. They can’t see the house from the street but after a couple hundred feet along a dappled cart path enormous white adobe house with a red tiled roof comes into view. “That is a big house,” she says.

Nyota only smiles. “I wonder who it belongs to,” she says. 

“I’ll grab the bags, you see if anyone’s home.”

Nyota glances at the chronometer on the cart as she powers it down. “I told Spock we’d be here about this time. We’re two minutes later than I thought. He should be here.”

“There he is,” Gaila says, pointing toward the house. Spock is on the porch, looking down at them. 

Nyota peers up at him, the smile tugging on her lips uncontrollable as he scales the steps down to them. Spock comes to stand just in front of Nyota, close enough for her to lean forward and bury her face in his wonderful chest. “Hi,” she says, unable to keep the happiness from her voice.

“I am pleased to see you have arrived safely.” Spock searches her face and represses the desire to kiss her. “Is Cadet Zevyvr with you?”

“Here!” Gaila calls from the back of the cart. “And we’ve got luggage, sir.”

Spock glances at Nyota briefly before he moves to help Gaila. “For the duration of your stay I would like to extend the invitation that you call me Spock,” he says.

“Wonderful. I’m Gaila instead of Cadet,” she says. “I’ve got my bags,” Gaila says as she lifts three suitcases with ease and jerks her head toward the remaining. “Those are Nyota’s.”

Spock nods and retrieves her bags. “Please, follow me,” he says. 

Nyota shoots Gaila an impressed glance as both women follow Spock up the stairs to the grand double door entrance of the house. The foyer is wide and circular, with staircases on either side. Everything was muted browns and rough creams with small bright accents of blue tile.

Spock leads both ladies to the second floor, and like the foyer, it is decorated in sophisticated, muted colors with paintings depicting calm seas and desert landscapes. Spock puts Nyota’s luggage down and continues to the end of the hall, to a set of double doors. He opens them and Gaila gasps in delight. 

“Is this my room?” she asks as she steps past Spock to look around. It’s large and airy, decorated in calm greens and whites. There is a large painting above the enormous bed, a rendering of the Gol skyline and glass double doors lead to a balcony that overlooks a lush garden and manicured lawn. Beyond is the bright blues of the sea and sky. 

“It is,” Spock says, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. “If you find you require anything please use the intercom system. The staff is prompt and will fulfill your requests. Tomorrow the chef arrives and will be on call. Do you require any assistance unpacking?”

Gaila shakes her head. “No, you’ve done more than enough, Commander. Spock,” she corrects. 

Then we will take our leave,” Spock says with an incline of his head. 

“I bet you will!” He closes the door on Gaila’s speechless and blissful face. 

“Staff,” Nyota says as she turns to follow Spock. 

“It is a large house,” he says before stooping briefly to retrieve her luggage. 

“And where am I to stay?” Nyota asks with a smile as Spock leads her down the hall in the opposite direction, to the other side of the house. There is another set of double doors at the end, and she hurries ahead to open the door for him. 

The room is just as bright and airy as Gaila’s, but larger. Stepping down into the lushly carpeted room there is a sitting area to the right with large and sturdy Vulcan furniture. Nyota can see a massive desk with Spock’s work spread in an orderly and familiar fashion. 

“The dressing area and the bathroom are through the door on the far wall,” Spock gestures toward said door as he watches Nyota meander about the room, the flounce of her skirt draws his eyes and he appreciates the view of her legs. “Are you pleased?” he finally asks.

Nyota’s smile is radiant. “It’s very beautiful. I recognize that painting.” She points to the one hanging over the bed. It is a depiction of Surak walking. Before him on the canvas is chaos, and behind him peace and order. “The Coming Logic, correct?”

“In Standard, yes. In Vulcan it is called _Buk-bosh Terateya t’Olozhika_.”

“Prophetic Convergence of Logic,” Nyota breathes. “That is much better.”

“Better is subjective; the translation you have gleaned is merely closer to the original wording,” Spock says. 

Nyota nods, and can’t help but let her attention wander to the immense four poster bed dominating the room. There has to be large enough to hold at least six fully grown humans with the barest of contact. “So this is your room?” she asks as she moves closer and touches an ornately carved post. 

“Affirmative.” 

“And my room?”

Spock hesitates. “If you would like separate accommodations it will be arranged.” 

“Where do you want me?”

“With me,” Spock answers immediately. 

“Then this is _our_ room,” Nyota says. She smiles shyly as Spock continues to gaze. “Are you aware that you’re staring at me?” she asks. 

“Affirmative,” Spock says.

“Your dress,” Spock says. “It pleases me.” He moves close and runs his fingers along Nyota’s bare shoulder and down her arm, feeling smug when gooseflesh erupts from his touch. “Every part of your body is exquisite.” He wants her now, and why should he not? There is nothing stopping him. 

“Good. Do you think it will please the owner of the house?” Nyota looks up at him with a barely there smile. 

“He should be so gratified,” Spock says. 

“Good. I wish to thank him in person.”

Spock growls lowly as he moves his hand, feather light, to the hollow of Nyota’s throat. Her head falls back and he lets his thumb settle against the pulse beneath her skin. It is fast and as he watches her eyes dilate and she licks her lips to moisten them.

Should he not kiss her?

Spock does kiss her because Nyota is there and in his arms and they can do as they wish, _when_ then wish. “I am the owner,” he says against her beautiful lips before he presses a chaste kiss upon them. “My mother thought it prudent to procure a residence after my announcement to join Starfleet. I could not reside in one of the dormitories before thorough security checks had been done on all who would live in my building. I was not cleared until sometime into my second year.”

“You gave this up for a dorm?” Nyota asks, unable to keep the incredulity from her expression. 

“At the time I did not wish to be seen as anything other than a Starfleet cadet.”

“And now?” 

Spock releases Nyota reluctantly and clasps his hands behind his back. “I do not have the patience for the commute,” he concedes. 

“Ah.” Nyota chuckles. “Well, I still need to thank our host.” Her eyes gleam as she tilts her head. “Honored host, I am humbled by your hospitality,” she murmurs.

Spock feels himself harden. “You are welcome to all you see. For a price,” he says. Spock walks back to the door and closes it quickly. 

“But I have nothing,” Nyota says, keeping her eyes cast downward.

Spock can smell her arousal and wishes to take her now, on the floor or against the wall, but he has learned to relax and enjoy their games, a mix of his and her fantasies and imagined personas. Nyota’s ability to turn the most innocuous of phrases into innuendo means a game can develop at any time.

It is exciting. 

This is a fond circumstance, the malevolent host and the thankful guest. They both have taken turns playing each role and enjoy them equally. Spock can be quite inventive when the need calls.

His need calls now. 

“I do not believe you are without worth,” he says as he walks back to Nyota. Spock lifts her chin gently and bares his teeth at the heat in her stare. “You are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Nyota says. “I will repay your generosity in any way I can.”

“Will you?” Spock leans close enough to feel her breath against his mouth. “Mere words,” he whispers. 

Nyota’s smile turns wicked and she gracefully lowers herself to her knees before him. Spock swallows and clamps down on his bio-controls just before she noses against his groin. “I am sure I can prove to be valuable.”

Spock can only nod once as Nyota releases the button and lowers the zipper of his trousers. 

“Ha! I knew you would forget to lock it,” Gaila crows as she bursts into the room. She takes a glance at Spock and Nyota, on her knees before him, and doubles over laughing. “I can die happily and debt free with this picture in my mind,” she says.

“Gaila,” Nyota screeches as she accepts Spock’s hand to help her to her feet. He adjusts himself and does up his pants before turns fully. “What are you doing? How did you even know we were in here?”

Gaila’s laughter trickles to a stop and she taps her nose. “I’m sorry, but I was just so curious and you don’t ever give me any real details,” she says to Nyota. “I had to.”

“Gaila, it is my sincere desire that you never attempt to duplicate this event,” Spock says.

Gaila nods and raises her hands in surrender as she cackles. “I’m sorry. Really. I’ll… just go. Find something to do,” she says. “Or hopefully, someone.” She skips out of the room, leaving Nyota and Spock in varying degrees of mortification. 

“I am _so_ sorry,” Nyota says from behind her hands. “I just… I thought that… Oh my god,” she whimpers. 

“My Nyota, nothing has happened. I am not extremely embarrassed,” Spock says before he presses two kisses to the backs of her hands. 

“You’re not?” Nyota doesn’t uncover her face. “I’m embarrassed enough for the both of us, then.”

“ _Ashayam_ , reveal your beautiful face to me,” Spock requests. When she does not he presses small kisses to her bare shoulders and to the join of her neck. Nyota melts against him as he licks and bites gently at her skin. “Nyota,” he murmurs against her, and lifts her into his arms. She laughs and presses close so he still cannot see her face. “Perhaps you will feel less embarrassed with fewer clothes on, and in bed?”

Nyota laughs again, but pulls back to cup Spock’s face in her hands. “I think my clothes are responsible for my excessive embarrassment,” she says. “You’re so wise and logical. Logic should be rewarded, shouldn’t it?”

“Your reasoning is without flaw,” Spock says seriously, and kisses Nyota deeply. 

***

Pleasant warmth.

Cool arm across his abdomen, a small hand resting over his heart.

Spock opens his eyes to the red gold of early evening, Nyota deeply asleep at his side. He is pleased and currently satiated. After alleviating Nyota of her mortification, Spock saw to it that he assuaged her pent up sexual energy.

He allows himself a smile, a small one, as he rolls over and presses his face at the juncture of Nyota’s shoulder and neck. Spock inhales deeply and rubs his face against the satin of skin. Once he begins he cannot stop; it feels good and the thought of Nyota smelling of him is… _intoxicating_.

Gently, so he does not wake her, Spock spreads his scent along the tops of her shoulders and across her delicate collarbone. Any species with a highly developed olfactory sense would know _she is his_. Spock growls happily and it reverberates in his chest, rubbing his face across Nyota’s lips. 

He needs to kiss her. 

“ _My Nyota_ ,” he murmurs in Vulcan against her cheek. “ _Awake, so I may taste of you again_.”

Nyota, more asleep than awake, turns her head to his heat and brushes her lips against his. It is still not enough. 

“ _Nyota_ ,” he whispers into her mind. “ _I would like to have you again_.”

Nyota’s amusement fills his body and makes him warmer. He receives images and sensations; their activities from the hours previous. Spock kneeling between Nyota’s legs while she perched upon his desk. Having her against the wall as he pumps exquisitely slowly inside of her. Finally, upon the bed from behind, his hands filled with her glorious buttocks. 

No, it is still not enough. 

“ _Nyota_ ,” he presses. Spock knows he should feel shame at the persistence of his desire. Is it so he cannot let her sleep? He thinks of what he wishes to do; watch Nyota ride his fingers and climax against the sensitive pads of his fingertips. Have her from behind again, fucking her slowly while she holds onto one of the columns of the bed. 

Nyota opens her eyes with a mischievous gleam and kisses him deeply. Spock slides his hands beneath the sheets to run along her sides; it is pleasing when she shudders. He moves the sheet down slowly, revealing her beautiful breasts “You are insatiable,” she groans as she widens her legs. Spock settles between them with a grin and mouths wet kisses between her breasts. 

“Does it bother you? I can control my amorous intent,” he reminds her, even as her foot slides up his back to pull him closer. 

“Oh no.” Nyota’s murmur turns into a yawn. “I’ve got an impossibly handsome rogue between my legs.” She grins and flexes her thighs around Spock’s chest. “I wonder what he’ll do down there.”

Spock presses a kiss to Nyota’s stomach. “There is a high probability he will pleasure you.”

“I like those odds.” 

Spock rests his face against Nyota’s abdomen and enjoys the movement of her muscles beneath her skin. “I am very grateful you decided to reside with me this summer.”

“I’m glad you asked me,” Nyota says. Suddenly her expression turns serious. “Now, Commander, I do believe you were on your way to doing something?”

“Aye.”

***

Gaila is in the kitchen when Spock enters, his hair slightly tousled and wearing wide legged pants and a loose fitting tunic in blue. She forgives him for not immediately noticing her; she’s sitting in the dark at the small table in the kitchen. She watches as he goes to the refrigeration unit and opens it, still unaware of her presence. Being a gracious individual she scrapes the spoon along the edge of the glass jar in her hand and he pauses like a coiled spring. “At ease, Commander,” Gaila says with a grin. 

Spock straightens and looks right at her. “Lights, sixty-two percent,” he says, and Gaila blinks to adjust her eyesight. “Is there a reason you sit in the dark?”

Gaila shrugs a shoulder. “Agave sweetened almond butter doesn’t really require light,” she says. “Cookies would be nice, though.”

“I will have the house stocked with foods you require. At the moment all I can offer is Nyota’s preferred brand of almond cookies.” Spock produces the package from a cabinet and brings it to Gaila. 

“Thank you,” she says, and can’t help but smirk. When Spock leans forward she can see three scratches at the base of his neck. _That’s my sister_ , she thinks. 

“Do you have plans for this summer, Gaila?” Spock pulls a large bowl of tropical fruit from the refrigeration unit and places it next to the cutting board on the counter in the middle of the room. 

“Humans call that an island, isn’t that weird? There’s no water on the floor,” Gaila says.

“Human nomenclature is strange at best and confusing at worst,” Spock says. “I noticed you have not answered. Please do not take my curiosity for prying.”

Gaila uses her spoon to spread the almond butter on a cookie and takes a bite. They complement each other perfectly. “You’re doing the small talk,” she laughs.

Spock hesitates before he removes a knife from the block. “I thought it may put you at ease,” he says. “Was I incorrect?” 

“It seems a little strange,” she admits.

“Because I am Vulcan or because you do not know me personally?” Spock begins to peel a whole pineapple using sure strokes of a knife. The only sound in the room is the _thunk_ and _scrape_ of the knife against the cutting board. 

“Both,” Gaila says. “I’m not used to making small talk with Vulcans.”

“Most would feel it is unnecessary and an illogical waste of time,” Spock says. “But I have found Humans employ _small talk_ when they have nothing of substance to speak upon, as I am sure you’ve found.”

“But I’m… not Human.”

“Indeed. I will not presume I should treat you as I would approach a Human.”

“Thank you.” Gaila continues to watch Spock reveal the yellow flesh of the fruit before she snorts softly. “When I first came to Earth I had Humans of all types of genders ask me the strangest questions and remark upon the oddest of topics while staring at my cleavage. Such a strange way to begin a relationship. If you’re going to look either give me some suggestions or tell me they look fabulous.”

“…Agreed,” Spock says. 

“So why don’t we do what our species consider logical,” Gaila says.

Spock cores the pineapple and cuts inch thick rings as he considers Gaila’s words. “I am amenable to this suggestion.”

“Good. I will be blunt and I’m sure you’ll appreciate that.”

“Indeed. Please proceed.”

Gaila loads another cookie. “Your hospitality, what will it cost me?”

Spock marvels at the parallels the current conversation and the very satisfactory one he had with Nyota. “It is not logical for me to charge you anything.”

“Elaborate, please,” Gaila says. 

Spock’s mouth quirks in an approximation of a smile. “My staff are employed by my family. When the house is not in use they reside in the embassy. I own this house. I am incurring minimal charges.”

“And you don’t want to recoup those charges?” Gaila asks. 

“If I had not extended my invitation to you, Nyota would have felt honor bound to reside with you during the sanctioned break. I wanted her with me,” he says. 

Gaila smiles and nods. “Well, you haven’t lied yet,” she says and taps the side of her nose. “I can tell.”

“Even with Vulcans?” Spock asks, intrigued. 

“Deception, even self-deception, has a unique scent,” she says. “And yes, even with Vulcans.”

“Fascinating.”

Gaila shrugs and slathers another cookie with almond butter. “Nyota offered to find me a place. To be my face so that petty Humans wouldn’t see me and think stupid things. I need sun and I need to be outside. I couldn’t afford the properties that would’ve allowed me to sun as I need and stay hidden.” She slams the knife into the jar harder than necessary.

“Due to the theft of your funds,” Spock says. 

“Nyota is a good friend. She is a clan sister that understands me. She looked right at me and said she’d stay with me. We’d find some wonderful place full of all types of people with few clothes and fewer inhibitions.”

“Nyota is very perceptive,” Spock says. “One of her many reputable traits.”

“Yeah.” Gaila inhales, deep and shuddering. “I don’t like debt,” she says. “I can tell you that because I’m not emotionally invested in you but I think you’re a trustworthy person. Like you said, Nyota is perceptive.”

“Indeed.” Spock nods; the trust of an Orion is no small thing and is easily lost. 

“Anyway. I still appreciate you letting me stay. I need relaxation during my photosynthesis phase.”

“There is access to a private beach and there are lounge chairs by the pool. Feel free to utilize them as you wish.”

“Do you have a problem with me bringing people here?” she asks. 

Spock peels a banana and judges its ripeness. “I can accommodate your proclivities as long as they do not put myself or Nyota in danger.” He removes a mango from the bowl and squeezes it, briefly before cutting into it with the knife.

“I would never put Nyota in danger.”

“Then I foresee no problems.”

“Nyota has told me she doesn’t want to share you.” Gaila smiles as she notices Spock speed up his peeling of mango. “You seem like you’d be interesting in bed.”

“I appreciate the compliment,” Spock says. 

“Instead, I’ll give you information and advice.”

“What logic has led you to the conclusion that I need advice and information from you?” Spock places the knife beside the marble cutting board, giving her his full attention. 

“That you would want some advice about Nyota,” Gaila says.

“I know Nyota and if I wish to know something that I don’t already know I would merely ask,” Spock says.

Gaila snorts around a cookie. “Liar,” she sings.

Spock can feel his ears heat and quickly represses the physiological reaction. “You do not know Nyota better than me,” he says.

“I might not know her _better_ , but I know her differently. She tells me things she’s embarrassed to tell you. She tells me things because I ask just because I want to know. Nyota doesn’t care what I think about her, our sisterhood is strong enough to survive until the Great Forest grows over and eats the galaxies.”

Spock looks down at his handiwork. Pineapples, mangos, bananas. He needs another fruit. 

“Might want to go with oranges,” Gaila suggests as she rises from her seat. “I’m going to take these back to my room,” she says as she puts the empty jar in the trash receptacle and the spoon in the dishwasher. 

“Gaila.” Spock turns to fully face her as she walks around him to the door. “You may be however you wish to be while in my home. There is no… pressure to live up to any Orion stereotype with me.”

Gaila looks at him for a moment longer and nods. “Thank you. I hope you know you don’t have to be anyone but yourself around me, too.” She watches as Spock removes a small bowl of pre-peeled oranges from the refrigeration unit. After a moment of hesitation he also takes some chocolate sauce and places all of his food items on a beautifully carved wooden tray. 

“Have a good night, Gaila,” Spock says, and she doesn’t bother to hide her grin just as he pretends not to see it. 

“ _Wear her out_ ,” Gaila crows loudly.

Spock stops and he looks as if he wants to say something, but declines in the face of Gaila’s overwhelming and enthusiastic approval.


	5. Logistics of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaila and Nyota settle in and Spock gets some unwanted advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience. Through sickness and real life issues it was almost impossible to write. Thank you so much for anyone who is still reading!

Habit and unfamiliar surroundings has Nyota waking early, ready to go and with nothing pressing to do. The bed is empty save her, but she’s not concerned; if she had Spock’s energy requirements she wouldn’t sleep either. Nyota stretches and rolls over and presses her face into Spock’s pillow. She inhales deeply and doesn’t bother to keep from giggling.

God, she’s an adult and she’s _giggling_. 

Nyota hugs the pillow and rolls back to her side of the immense bed. From the corner of her eye she sees the notification blink from her comm. “Play message,” she says with a yawn. 

“ _My dearest Nyota, I have business that will keep me away for most of the morning. Please enjoy yourself until I return, whereupon I hope you will enjoy me._

Nyota laughs again and puts her hand over her heart. She remembers when she wondered if it would be worth it, telling Spock she was interested. That they should date. She created arguments in her favor and in her heart of hearts she created arguments _against_ saying anything at all. Leaving her burgeoning desire and admiration to the abstract. 

Fortune favors the bold, indeed. 

She slips from the comforting warmth of the bed and throws on a gown and robe. There’s no one outside the door and through the peach and yellow rays of the early morning sun the hall is empty and still. Nyota hears nothing but the quiet chirping of birds outside. She pads down the hall to Gaila’s door and slips in quietly. 

Gaila is asleep, nude and sprawling, the curtains wide open revealing her softly snoring, green-skinned friend. “Gaila, wake up,” Nyota whispers loudly as she crosses the room and climbs into the bed next to her. 

Gaila leans into Nyota’s warmth and takes a deep sniff of her shoulder. “Nyota,” she murmurs. “What are you doing up so early? The sun is still cool.”

“I just woke up,” Nyota says. 

“You forgot you’re on vacation, didn’t you?” 

Nyota rolls her eyes. “No,” she protests.

“Lies,” Gaila yawns and snuggles closer. “I don’t have any clothes on,” she says.

“I noticed.” Nyota inhales and smiles. “You smell amazing. Like, really amazing.”

Gaila opens one eye and chuckles. “I’m off the suppressants, fair warning.”

“You’re fine.”

“Yes, _now_. Just waiting on the sun,” she says. “Once it warms up a little more I’m going to be lounging by the pool and soaking it up. You’re not going to want to be around me then or after.”

"What? I'm not going to be able to see you?" Nyota groans grumpily. 

Gaila hesitates and tugs at one of Nyota’s braids. "You can see me, just not a lot or you'll get a headache."

"Oh." 

“If you had known would you h— ow!” Gaila rubs the side of her head where Nyota swatted it. “What did you do that for?”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Nyota says. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say,” Gaila protests.

“I do,” Nyota says. “Something about how if I had known I wouldn’t be able to stand up to the sheer power of your pheromones then maybe I would’ve left you to fend for yourself.”

Gaila presses her face against Nyota’s shoulder so she can’t look at her. “Maybe,” she mumbles. 

“So save your breath,” Nyota says.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

They’re silent for a while, both women falling back into light slumber. “Nyota?”

“Hmm?” Nyota hums.

“I think you’ve found a really good person in Commander Spock,” Gaila says.

Nyota’s eyes are still closed but her smile is wide. “You really think so?”

“I do. I also thinks he really loves you.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s amazing,” she says.

“I smell a buttocks.”

“Gaila!”

“I mean I smell an exception,” Gaila snorts. 

“It’s nothing. Nothing important.”

“So why do you smell nervous? No, not nervous really.” Gaila raises her head and presses her face against Nyota’s neck to get a good sniff. “You smell… kind of sad and worried. What’s wrong?”

Nyota opens her eyes to see Gaila staring down at her in worry. “Sometimes I can’t imagine anything beyond my work. I have a plan of where I want to be professionally in five years. Ten. Twenty. I’ve worked most of my life toward making sure it happens. I never really factored a serious social life or romantic relationship into it. I don’t think I considered them really necessary.

“I mean, I like going out but I can live without it,” Nyota corrects.

“Yes, I know.”

“And I don’t burn out on studying, I enjoy it. I truly love what I’m training to do so often it doesn’t even feel like work. Effort, yes, but that’s not the same thing.”

“Then Commander Hard Body came into the picture,” Gaila drawls.

Nyota shakes her head but laughs. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“And now you’re thinking about how you’re going to decorate this house?” Gaila teases. Immediately she smells Nyota’s shift in emotion and it smells wrong and she can’t help but wrinkle her nose. “What did I say clan-sister?” she asks. “I’m sorry.”

Nyota holds Gaila tighter. “It’s not you. That’s what I’m worried about. Vulcans… they don’t normally date. I mean, it’s not widely done.”

“So what does that have to do with you?” Gaila asks. 

“He’s never really said he wants to marry me,” Nyota admits. 

“Have you asked?”

Nyota huffs. “I don’t want to seem desperate.”

“…Or you could be asking a question because you want to know the answer.”

“I don’t’ know if I want to know the answer,” Nyota snaps. 

Gaila takes a deep breath and runs her hand along Nyota’s arm. Immediately she can feel her sister calm considerably. 

“I’m sorry I snapped,” Nyota says.

“I understand. You get passionate when you’re talking about something important,” Gaila says. 

“I don’t know what to do.” Nyota turns to Gaila and her smile is small and asymmetrical. It makes her look like she’s in pain. 

“Are you in pain,” Gaila asks. 

“Only when I think about it.”

Gaila nods. She can understand that. If you pretend it’s not there, it doesn’t hurt you, it doesn’t _cripple_ you nearly as much. She begins to hum a lullaby whose words are lost to her memory. When the melody is over Gaila considers. “Do you want to marry him?” she asks. “What if he’s just interested in dating? Hasn’t he dated before?”

“We don’t talk about exes,” she says.

“And you assume he doesn’t have any.”

“I like that assumption,” Nyota laughs. “But I know it can’t be true. He’s _had_ to have had practice. He does this thing with his hips!” She pretends to sob. “It’s glorious. He can’t just be naturally talented.”

Gaila snorts and can’t imagine Spock moving in any other way but robotically. Although, if it’s programmed correctly robots are able to finely grind a curve perfectly. 

_Good for you, Spock_ , she thinks. “So he’s had more than one relationship before you. Is that so bad?” 

“No, not in and of itself. I don’t want to talk about this.” Nyota turns in Gaila’s arms and faces away.

“I’m sorry,” Gaila says to the curtain of Nyota’s hair.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know. I don’t want you to feel sad. And you shouldn’t. He went out of his way to do this nice thing for me so you two can spend this time together.”

“I know. I try very hard not to push or want more than what Spock can or wants to give. Honestly, everyone needs that type of consideration but Spock in particular… He can identify and acknowledge known social cues but your best bet is to be upfront and very specific about what you want.”

“And you don’t know what you want?”

“I know what I want,” Nyota says. “I’m just afraid he might not want it. I thought… Nothing. Nevermind.”

Gaila doesn’t press and they lie in silence as the sun rises higher in the sky. 

“Okay, you’re kind of giving me a headache now,” Nyota says apologetically as she pulls away. 

“Sorry,” Gaila says, and sticks out her tongue when Nyota rolls her eyes.

“You don’t get to apologize for something you can’t control,” she says.

“And neither do you.” Gaila rises to her knees on the bed. “Be you and ask for what you want. Or clarification. It’s not like you to be a rat.”

“Mouse,” Nyota corrects absently. 

“They’re both small and unattractive.”

Nyota huffs a laugh and shakes her head. “Everyone is scared of something,” she says.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll never get an answer if you don’t ask the question,” Gaila calls. “Now get out before you really get a headache.”

Nyota rolls her eyes but leaves the room; Gaila is right, the pheromone reaction is trying to build behind her eyes. She can’t imagine how Gaila will be at full strength and again she wonders how much people who make Humans uncomfortable have to sacrifice to come to Starfleet. 

She can only hope it’s worth it.

Nyota hears low murmuring behind the door of the suite she and Spock shares. _Great_ , she thinks. It’s probably the staff. She presses her ear against the door, feeling only slightly guilty at eavesdropping. 

“ _I am more concerned with his guests. A Human female and an Orion female. I question his logic_.” Nyota clenches her jaw to keep from barging into the room to needlessly defend Spock’s honor.

“ _The Orion does not seem troublesome. Perhaps she will need nothing from us. She does not seem very bright_.”

Nyota frowns. Gaila is one of the smartest people she’s ever known and to have these two talk about her like she’s nothing is getting her blood boiling. Perhaps it’s time to make her presence known. She double checks her robe then pushes the doors open. “Greetings,” she says, careful to remove the emotional inflection from her voice. “I am – ”

“You are Nyota Uhura, one of Osu Spock’s guests. I am called T'Madh.” She steps forward to and interrupts Nyota. 

Nyota is not concerned what this woman thinks of her. 

The other Vulcan steps forward with a short inclination of his head. “I am Saroc. We are here to tend to your needs,” he says, his tone far more neutral than his cohort. 

“Within reason,” T’Madh adds. 

Nyota keeps her smile pleasant. “Is it easier for you to converse in Standard or would you prefer Vahlkansu?” 

Saroc and T’Madh only look surprised for a split second. “You speak Vahlkansu?” she asks. 

“It would be illogical to offer when I do not,” Nyota says.

T’Madh’s non-expression positively drips with disdain. “It is only logical to communicate in Standard, as it affords the opportunity to gain higher proficiency,” she says.

“Fair enough.”

“Which room have you selected?” T’Madh asks. “We will need to add it to the cleaning rotation.”

Nyota looks at her for a moment longer than comfortable. “I have chosen this room,” she says. “I’m unpacked and everything,” she adds when they glance around the room for luggage. 

T’Madh and Saroc glance at each other before he nods. “We will be available through the house comm system. Merely state our name and we will accommodate your request,” he says.

“Within reason,” T’Madh adds again. 

Nyota refrains from snapping at the woman by nodding and promptly ignoring her. She grabs some clothes and heads into the bathroom and doesn’t come back out until she’s sure they’ve gone. The bed looks as if no one’s touched it and the tray of dirty dishes is gone. Nyota wonders what they thought of the empty chocolate sauce container and tries not to laugh. 

She does wonder if she should tell Spock about their behavior. Perhaps she’s making too much of it. They don’t know Nyota and she doesn’t know them, even if T’Madh seems a bit rude. It was obvious they were not aware of the nature of her and Spock’s relationship, so it was bound to be awkward. 

No, Nyota decides. She’s not going to get someone in trouble over nothing but irritated feelings. The desire to explore the house disappears as she realizes they’re no longer alone. She does have those Trill translations in her bag. Summer shouldn’t discourage her from her work, as long as it’s fun, right?

Nyota grabs her bag.

***

The door opens and Chris smiles. “Spock, am I disturbing anything?”

“If you truly cared you would have commed before your arrival,” Spock says. “To answer your question, you are not.” 

Chris presents his meager excuse to drop by. “I’m returning your chess set,” he says, holding it up as if presenting evidence.

Spock looks at it briefly. “I have long since ceased expecting its return,” he says, but steps aside so Chris can enter. 

“It just kept slipping my mind,” he says. “You know how Humans are.”

Spock assesses Chris and nods. “Indeed. What may I do for you, Chris?” 

“It’s what I can do for _you_ , Spock,” he says, handing over the set. Spock places it on a shelf next to two other folded boards. 

“I have no need for assistance at this time,” he says.

“Are you still planning on entertaining your girlfriend?”

Spock pauses. “I am,” he says.

“For how long?”

“Is your memory truly so degraded that you do not remember your own words in regards to meddlesome behaviors?” Spock asks. 

Chris winces. “Hear me out, Spock. I just… It’s very difficult to sit by and watch you make a mistake if I can help or advise you. Do you understand that?”

“You assume I know not what I do,” Spock says. “Your conclusion lacks sufficient data.”

“Call it Human intuition,” Chris offers. “I just want to help you put your best foot forward. After Leila, I thought you might swear off Human women for good.” He watches as Spock’s mouth hardens into what he thinks is an indifferent line. 

“It would be illogical to refrain from associating with an entire people due to one person,” Spock says.

“That’s the spirit. So when does she arrive?” Chris asks. 

“We will reside in an alternate location,” Spock says.

“So what are you doing here?”

“I have more time than I anticipated and thus –”

Chris groans and tries to keep the deep disappointment from his expression. “Please tell me you didn’t come back for work,” he says.

“I prefer to utilize my time in an efficient manner,” Spock says, and if Chris isn’t mistaken he sounds a bit defensive. 

“An efficient manner,” Chris repeats. “Let me ask you, Spock, do you consider fostering a deeper connection with your girlfriend an efficient use of your time?” 

Spock opens his mouth and closes it, tilting his head just a bit to the right. “Affirmative,” he says.

“Did that hurt to admit?”

“Unlike most Humans, Christopher, I see the logic in admitting error.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Touché. So, what do you have planned?”

“She and I have multiple projects that we will complete. In each other’s presence,” Spock adds when Chris scoffs. “We advise each other and offer unique and varying opinions that often prove valuable. She enjoys her work, as I have stated in previous conversations.”

_What a lost soul_ , Chris considers. Without him what would Spock do?

Make the same mistakes again.

“Spock, other than projects that can wait until summer is over to be completed, are there any activities or events that you would like to share? Places around the city or even the world that you can take her to?”

Spock considers. “I value her opinion highly and there are various locations on planet that I would like to talk to her about.”

“You could, I don’t know, take her there,” Chris suggests. “Build memories and have meaningful conversations in small cafes where you don’t speak the language very well.”

“The odds of my partner’s inability to speak the local language is very low,” Spock says. 

Ah. Another piece of the puzzle. “Well, that’s great. She can make sure you’re not ordering something that isn’t vegetarian,” Chris says. “The fact is you can’t just hole up in a room and work side by side. You may as well be colleagues, instead. Do you want a girlfriend or a coworker?” 

Spock looks vaguely ill. “I would appreciate a significant other,” he says. “But she is dedicated and ambitious. She suggested our various projects, not I.”

“Probably because she didn’t know what to suggest,” Chris says. “Show her a different side to you. A spontaneous and thoughtful side. Give her an exciting summer and you may find you’ll enjoy yourself as well.”

Spock exhales audibly and nods. “Noted,” he says.

“Would you like some help?”

Spock blinks. “I know her better than you. I will compile a list of events and trips and present it to her.”

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s … not quite romantic, Spock. Choice is all well and good, but Humans usually like a bit of thought put into spontaneous gestures.”

“If it is planned it is hardly _spontaneous_ ,” Spock says.

Chris pauses and wonders at the choices in his life that led him to this conversation. “True,” he admits. “But it’s unplanned to the other person, which is where it counts. Surprises are easier to handle when there’s no work involved.”

“I have anecdotal evidence to support your theory,” Spock concedes.

“Great!”

“I still have no need for your assistance,” Spock says.

“Oh.”

“But your efforts to render aid are most… appreciated,” Spock adds.

Chris can’t keep the grin from his face. “Alright. Just…” He knows in his head that Spock isn’t a child. He doesn’t act childish and he can always be depended on to make the best decision based on all known variables. 

When it comes to the heart? Chris feels like Spock is child- _like_.

“If you have any questions or want to run a scenario you can call, okay?” Chris says. 

“You have no plans of your own?” Spock asks. 

“Golf resort. I leave in two weeks. More than enough time to come running if you call.”

“A comm should be sufficient,” Spock says. 

Chris rolls his eyes. 

***

The sun is warm and the scent of salt is on the air and in the very quiet, Gaila can hear the sound of the ocean beating against the shore. 

It’s not Risa, but she isn’t going to complain. 

There are steps carved into the cliff that lead to a private and pristine beach. If one doesn’t feel like lying on the sand they can rest comfortably on one of the plush lounge chairs beside the pool, which is exactly what Gaila decides to do. It’s almost noon and the sun feels almost heavy as its heat beats down on her body. Her skin is tingling and she can feel it from her scalp to the soles of her feet. 

If she had been required to stay on campus the sun would’ve been half as strong. Gaila smiles and flexes her toes. A couple more hours in the sun and she’ll pull Nyota away from her recordings and maybe they can- 

Gaila opens her eyes and looks around. “Okay, whoever is out there can just come right out,” she calls. She hears a rustle again and sits up, peering through the foliage on the other side of the pool. During her earlier exploration she had followed a carefully cultivated trail that wound through a calm and thriving garden ending at a locked wrought iron door. 

She rises from the chair and puts her hands on her hips. “Orions are faster than you think,” she says. “Just come on out.” Gaila catches the scent of gardenias and vanilla as the breeze changes, and a Human female steps out, bits of leaves in her long blonde hair. 

She looks embarrassed and can only glance at Gaila. “Who are you?” Gaila asks. 

“I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else,” she admits, pulling leaves from her hair, still not looking at Gaila. 

“Who did you think I was?” 

“An old friend.” 

“Is there a reason why you won’t look at me?” Gaila asks. “I know it’s considered rude on Earth not to look at the person who is talking to you.”

“Yes, well that is normally true but you’re… naked,” the woman whispers, as if Gaila was unaware of her state of undress. 

Humans.

Gaila laughs and reaches for her robe, pulling it on and cinching it at the waist tightly. “I need the sun on my bare skin,” she says. 

“Um….”

“Also, you’re going to want to stay there; my pheromones are very effective right now.”

“I’ll stay where I am, don’t worry,” she says, rubbing her arms and generally looking miserable. 

“What’s your name?” Gaila asks. 

“Leila.”

“That’s a pretty name, and very close to mine. My name is Gaila.” Gaila smiles eagerly. 

“Oh, how lovely. It’s nice to meet you, Gaila. How do you know…” Leila shakes her head. “Nevermind.”

Gaila frowns and scrounges for an appropriate compliment. “Your hair is very beautiful. It matches your coloring quite well,” she adds.

“Thank you,” Leila says, but again it sounds more like a question than a statement of gratitude. 

“So why are you hiding in the bushes?”

“I wasn’t hiding, not really,” Leila says. “I thought you were someone else and when I realized you weren’t and on top of everything you were naked… I was going to just go away but then I got caught on a stupid bush and it went all downhill from there.”

Gaila glances over at the rail that leads to the beach. “That would be a hard fall,” she says.

Leila blinks and tilts her head in confusion. “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” she says.

Gaila doesn’t want to figure it out, she wants to get back to nourishing her body while the sun is still amazing. With fickle California weather it can change before you’re ready. “Who are you looking for?”

Leila hesitates. “He’s a Vulcan?”

Gaila blinks. “Is he or isn’t he?” she asks. 

“What?”

“You said it in such a way that I am to expect it was a question,” Gaila says. “Do you know if he’s a Vulcan or not?”

Leila blushes furiously and nods. “Yes, yes, he’s Vulcan. His name is Spock.”

“Oh! Well he’s not here right now,” Gaila says. “He should be back later.”

“Um, right. Okay.”

“Did you want to leave a comm ID?” Gaila prompts. 

Leila shakes her head. “No, no; I just… I’ll come back.” 

“Okay.” Gaila watches as the woman hesitates again, as if she wants to ask another question. “Did you need something else?” 

Leila practically jumps and shakes her head profusely. “No, no. Thank you,” she says after a moment. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Okay.” Gaila finds that Humans rarely want to take responsibility for wasting another person’s time. She slips the robe off of her shoulders and takes a bit of pride in the way Leila’s eyes widen and drop to her exposed breasts before she flushes even redder and turns on her heel abruptly. “Bye,” Gaila calls after the woman; she’s moving so fast her hair flies behind her like a blonde flag. 

A pretty woman looking for Spock, Gaila considers and can’t help but smile as she settles onto the chair and reclines it flat so she can turn on her stomach. She’s seen various cadets trailing after Spock with love sickness in their eyes as he steps on their hearts with obliviousness that would be cruel if his own eyes weren’t so filled with Nyota. Who is definitely going to find this as funny as Gaila.

Gaila snorts and promptly slides into a doze.

***

“ _Incoming call from Big Head. Incoming call from Big Head._ ”

Nyota glances at her comm and sees the overly cheerful smile of her brother, Doctor Kamau Uhura. Kamau is the oldest of the three Uhura children, and with his dual degrees in mathematics and investment theory, handles the major finances of the Uhura Family. 

Now, Nyota loves her family, she does, but when it comes to her brother and sister they can go whole months without calling each other and suddenly in the span of a little more than a week she gets a call from both of them?

_I’m going to kill you, Makena_ , she thinks. “Accept call, audio only,” she says. 

“ _You’re fired_ ,” is the first thing Kamau says.

“Can’t fire me, you don’t pay me,’ Nyota retorts.

“ _Maybe you’d get paid if you did your job_ ,” he says.

“What do you want, Big Head,” she asks. “I’m up to my eyes in Trill translations. I’m two steps away from signing up for a symbiont.” Nyota pauses. 

“ _It’s Summer. You should try to relax_.”

“This coming from the guy who’s about to have baby number three? How’s Devorah?” Nyota suddenly wants to see her brother’s face and enables the video.

“ _Ready to pop and still refusing to lie still. Probably doesn’t help that Sanaa is having nightmares_.” Kamau glares into the camera. “ _That’s why you’re getting fired_.”

“What? What did I do?” Nyota squeaks. 

“ _Do you remember that doll Sanaa said she wanted_?”

Nyota definitely remembers the doll. Sanaa is currently Nyota’s youngest niece and was having a problem coping with the impending reality where she won’t be the youngest and thus the absolute center of attention. 

The My New Sibling doll is supposed to be fun and get the child excited for the coming baby. You can feed it real water and a special powder that comes with the doll and it replicates bodily functions just like a new baby. Realistic skin textures, adjustable voice for its babbling and eyes that engage while in play. It was one hundred and fifteen credits.

And sold out on five worlds. 

It took Nyota calling in some last minute favors to find that damn doll. “What, she doesn’t like it anymore?” Because as much as Nyota wants to be the _cool_ aunt, she knows Sanaa better suck it up and enjoy that damn doll.

“ _She’s scared of it_ ,” Kamau says. “ _The voice modulator fluctuates without provocation and so sometimes it’ll sound like sunshine and roses and other times like it’s on some sort of controlled substance and then we have a lovely third option, like it’s calling for your soul from the depths of hell_.” 

Nyota howls with laughter. 

“ _It’s not funny. It’s traumatizing her and my wife, your sister-in-law_.” 

Nyota struggles to breathe before she collapses into giggles again. “That is the best thing I’ve heard in a while,” she admits through her tears of laughter. 

“ _It gets worse. The motion sensor for the eyes has malfunctioned so sometimes its eyes will move when there isn’t anyone else there. Do you know how creepy it is to hold a doll and it’s looking at you, then suddenly it looks over your shoulder and no one’s there? Nyota, it’s not that funny._ ” 

“It is, I’m sorry,” Nyota wheezes, weak from laughter. “But it should still be within warranty.” 

“ _Technically the warranty is void. Sanaa may or may not have tried to give it a bath_.” 

“So get rid of it!” 

“ _Sanaa won’t let us. Devorah’s threatening to move and leave us both with the cursed doll. It’s all your fault_.” 

Nyota finally stops laughing and shrugs her shoulders. “Not my problem, Big Head.” 

“ _You’re so childish_.” Kamau’s smile turns gleeful. “ _Or, maybe not. So you’re staying in San Francisco with your boyfriend. There’s hope for you yet._ ” 

Nyota winces at the word _boyfriend_. It doesn’t seem to fit the image of Spock in her head nor her heart. “I’m going to kill her,” she says. 

“ _You can’t be mad at anyone other than yourself. Makena can’t hold water; at least she came to me instead of talking to Mama and Baba._ " 

“True,” Nyota admits. 

“ _So, what does he have planned? Is he going to show you the sights? What is there to do in San Francisco_?” Kamau asks. 

“There’s stuff,” Nyota hedges. “Plenty of things to do here.” 

“ _How much of it have you done? When you’re home you’re never in the compound unless you’re sleeping._ ” 

Nyota shrugs. “I have a lot of work to do,” she says. “The thought of getting ahead for next year gives me a rush.” 

Kamau looks unimpressed. “ _I’m sure it does. Nyota, you’ll always have work to do. What do you want, a colleague or a significant other_?” 

“We’re really comfortable and we’ve both got work to do.” 

“ _Sounds like an excuse._ ” 

Nyota presses her mouth into a thin line. “I don’t know how to tell Mama to ship my clothes. She’ll want to know why I want my things and do you really think I want to have that conversation with her?”

Kamau winces. “ _I’ll concede your point_ ,” he says. “ _But that shouldn’t stop you from going out. You’ve gotta have some clothes._ ”

“You know how I get,” Nyota admits. 

“ _Yes, I do._ ” Kamau looks at her closely. “ _You want to impress him!_ >”

Nyota resists the urge to duck her head to hide the smile threatening to split her face. ‘I do. I want to dazzle him but don’t see the point in buying a whole bunch of new clothes when they won’t fit in my closet at the Academy.” Nyota pauses; there’s a noise at the door that sounds something like a footstep. She waits, but no one knocks or comes in, and after a moment the steps move away from the door. “Weird,” she says.

“ _Your face is weird_.”

“Your _head_ is weird,” Nyota shoots back. 

***

Gaila opens her eyes at the sudden shade and smiles. “Spock.”

“I do not wish to disturb you, but I require advice,” he says, and looks down at her chest. “Your breasts look very impressive today.”

“Thank you for noticing!” Gaila preens and gestures to the empty chair beside her. “Please sit. Ask me anything,” she says as she closes her eyes again. “I’ve been out here for almost six full hours and it is wonderful. There is less reflective sun here than at the Academy.”

“The rate of reflection affects the quality of the light?” Spock asks, his posture ramrod straight as he considers Gaila’s words. 

“Yep,” she says, smacking her lips together. “So, what’s the problem?”

“It is not a problem,” Spock says.

“Then what do you want?”

“Advice on what could be potentially a problem,” he clarifies. “I overheard Nyota express lamentation at having access to her summer wardrobe and how it affects her desire to attend various events that may be planned.”

Gaila smirks. “Yeah. Nyota loves clothes and shoes. I’m lucky she’s so generous and she’s lucky I love borrowing her clothes.”

“I do not understand, Nyota is aesthetically pleasing every time I see her. I do not require a new garment for every function,” Spock says. “I should just tell her that, correct?”

Gaila’s eyes fly open. “No,” she says, turning fully onto her side. “Don’t. Your opinion isn’t the only reason why Nyota likes to dress up. We’re stuck in uniforms for most of the year. She has a hot body and she likes to show it off.”

Spock frowns. He does not like the idea of others appreciating Nyota’s form. “That is unsettling.”

“But not like that. Not _all_ like that,” Gaila corrects. “She likes to show off for certain people. And herself.”

“Do you know any designers she prefers over others?”

“Osei Sima, definitely. By the sun on your skin don’t let her see a dress of his design. You will get a dissertation on everything the man’s ever done.” 

“How fortuitous,” he murmurs.

“Not after the twentieth time. You know him?”

“I am familiar with his work.” Incidentally, most of Amanda’s wardrobe consists of Osei Sima’s designs. 

“Do you want me to get her measurements?”

“Negative. I am already in possession of them,” he says.

Gaila smirks. “Of course you are. Anything else, Spock?”

“No, I will leave you to your photosynthesis.”

“Thank you.” Gaila drowses happily until she remembers the blonde Human woman and her nervous scent. When she opens her eyes Spock is gone, and she feels too good to move. 

She’ll tell him later.

***

“Hello?” Nyota moves further into the kitchen to find it empty. It wasn’t a sound that had grabbed her attention, though, but a scent. The only culprit is the pot on the stove. Nyota lifts the lid to investigate and is hit with the aroma of mung bean and turmeric. It’s such a scent from home Nyota can almost hear her mother and father laughing and joking behind her. Instead, she catches an almost silent footfall. 

“Greetings. I am Staskon.”

Nyota is already turning and replacing the lid on the pot. Fighting embarrassment, she nods and steps away from the stove. “Hello. I’m Nyota Uhura.” She gestures toward the stove. “I’m sorry for disturbing anything. I was curious about the smell; it’s _khitcherie_ , a traditional dish from my country of origin.”

“I am aware. Osu Spock has made it clear we are to create a relaxing and welcoming environment.”

Nyota blinks and tries not to smile at the consideration of Spock. “I don’t want you to put yourself out too much,” she says. 

“It was an order; my comfort does not factor into this situation. I also have a desire to expand my culinary understanding of your world. You have merely given me an impetus to begin my research in East Africa.” 

“That sounds wonderful. So I guess I can look forward to some _Isku dhex karis_ , and maybe some _sambuusa_?”

Staskon hesitates before he nods once. “You’ve put quite the task before me, Nyota Uhura. I will endeavor to meet the standards to which you are accustomed.”

 

She’s grown accustomed to the replicated food of the academy mess, but that’s neither here nor there. “I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Nyota says. 

“Fine has many definitions, and thus is imprecise as a descriptor,” Staskon says.

Nyota finds herself nodding. “I guess you’re right.”

“Please feel free to request as many diverse meals as you can, I desire to perfect as many Earth recipes as am able.”

“Is there a large market for Earth dishes on Vulcan?” Nyota asks, suddenly struck by the image of a Vulcan requesting a lentil burger and eating it with a special fork and knife. 

“After modification,” Staskon admits. “But one must learn the dish before one knows where to remove a spice and when to add another.”

“Very true. Okay, I’ll make sure I keep you on your toes,” Nyota says. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Staskon.”

“The tone you employ leads me to believe you expected otherwise.” Staskon gives Nyota a not quite smile. 

“I met T’Madh and Saroc,” she says.

“Ah.” Staskon’s face reveals nothing. “T’Madh’s logic is very set when it comes to her opinion of Humans. Her husband, Saroc, does not care so it does not cost him to be polite. If they have offended or disrespected you in any way, they will be reported.”

“Nothing so serious,” Nyota reassures him. “I think I’ve done what I tell others not to.”

“Would you elaborate?”

“I’m treating Vulcans like they’re all alike,” Nyota says. “I know better and I apologize.”

Staskon looks at Nyota for a moment and nods. “Your logic is sound, though I was not offended. When I began my journey in diverse cooking I had many prejudices against Humans and your cuisine.”

“And now?” 

“There is much you can learn about a people through their foods and favored dishes.” He pauses and gestures to the pot of _khitcherie_. “I would be gratified if you were to taste the dish and tell me if I’ve come close to a fair replication.” 

Nyota beams. “I’d be honored. Thank you, Staskon.”

She ends up sticking around for a while, enjoying Staskon’s company. He’s slyly hilarious and makes genuinely interesting conversation. Nyota watches as he cooks and talks; adding seasoning as he speaks of the time he was apprenticed to a sushi master in Japan. Chopping vegetables with nimble fingers and elaborating on the extremely rewarding period of time spent learning ancient cacao recipes in Guatemala. 

An hour later it’s with a smile that Nyota returns to her suite, which she finds empty. Where is Spock? He said he had work to do but that was morning, it’s almost dinner time now. She sighs and looks at her work, sprawling all over and looking out of place. At least she has time to clean it up. 

Nyota begins stacking her papers when Spock comes in. He glances at the mess she has yet to clean and a smile tugs at his mouth. “Nyota, I am already acquainted with your work habits,” he says.

“So I can stop pretending?” Nyota jokes as she quickly heaps everything into comprehensive piles. 

“Please.”

Nyota hums and turns to find Spock filling her personal space. “You’ve been gone all day,” she says. 

“Are you upset?” Spock asks. Gently, he trails a finger along Nyota’s temple, gathering wayward strands of hair from her skin. He loves touching her skin and marvels that he has permission to do so. Spock looks into her eyes and finds no resentment. 

“Nope,” Nyota says, and leans up to kiss Spock quickly.

“Did you miss me?” Spock asks. 

“Nope,” Nyota sings, and leans up to kiss Spock again. “I met the staff of the house, and my absolute favorite is Staskon. Where’d you find him?”

“I have no desire to speak about my staff,” Spock says as he begins to walk Nyota backward. 

She glances back at his destination and laughs. “But they’re so interesting. Besides, I’m going to need company while you’re working.” Spock pauses, his face impassive. “Spock, what’s wrong?” 

“Nyota, I do not wish us to merely work beside each other as is our norm,” he says.

Nyota nods slowly. “Okay. What do you want?”

“For us to spend time together where our mutual pleasure is the only goal. I wish for us to travel to enjoyable locations and learn more about each other outside of the Starfleet context. Most of my absence today was devoted to ensuring that my time would not be interrupted.”

Nyota lets her hands trail up Spock’s arms as she considers his words. “Wow, okay,” she murmurs. 

“I am unclear as to what emotion you’re experiencing,” he admits. Immediately Nyota reaches down and presses her palm against his. Spock gets the impression of vague excitement and apprehension and the lure of translations. And beneath that, is an odd fear. “What are you afraid of, my Nyota?” Spock asks. 

“You’re right, we’re in that stage of our relationship where we should get a little deeper. Sometimes I wonder if that’s possible,” she says. “I’ll start looking around for events that we’d be interested in checking out.”

Spock hesitates. “I would like to take a greater role in our social experiences.”

“Since when?” Nyota pulls him closer and pretends to peer into his eyes, looking for something. “Unless you have an event you’ve wanted to attend you usually leave everything to me. Not that I mind, because you usually tell me if you enjoyed yourself afterward.”

Spock leans down and rubs his cheek against Nyota’s forehead. “I do no such thing,” he says.

“No, you say, _I appreciated the joy the experience has brought you_ , and other phrases like that,” she says. “Which I understand, but you can get to know someone through what they like to do. Another part of you.”

“I will ensure we appreciate a wide range of familiar pleasurable stimuli and attempt new experiences together.” Spock noses down the side of Nyota’s face and tries not to tighten his grip on her. 

‘Okay, but – ”

“My Nyota, no need,” Spock says, still absorbing the general shape of her emotions. “I have also solved your wardrobe problem.”

Nyota pulls away in surprise. “How did you know about that?” she asks. 

“I overheard part of your conversation with your brother,” Spock admits.

“You were eavesdropping?” 

“No, I overheard. Very different. I intended to make my presence known but then you began to disseminate information that I felt held relevance to my interests.”

“And what are your interests?” Nyota asks.

“To have you as comfortable as possible while we enjoy our time together.” He probes gently and senses no irritation. “I appreciate your understanding in this.”

Nyota shakes her head and tries to suppress her smile. “I guess I can’t be too angry; I would probably do the same thing in your shoes. But Spock, you’re not going to go overboard, are you?”

“Explain.”

Nyota purses her lips. “Do you remember when we were looking for a birthday present for your mother and I mentioned I liked a pair of earrings?”

“I recall. They were purchased.”

“And?”

Spock blinks. “Along with the matching necklace and ring.”

“Exactly.” Nyota nods.

“I understand there is something you wish to convey with that one word, but it is unclear. The earrings belonged to a set.” Spock cannot help his frown but attempts valiantly to smooth his face when Nyota reaches up and gently massages the furrow between his brow. 

“It was expensive.”

“Hardly.” Spock leans into her touch and allows the tension to fall away from his body. 

“You wouldn’t let me see the receipt.”

“Logical. It was a gift for you.” Spock wonders when his eyes had closed as he grabs her hand and presses a kiss onto her palm. “I enjoy giving you gifts,” he says. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No, I’m not uncomfortable with gifts. I just… I don’t want you to think that’s why I’m with you,” Nyota says. 

“I have never been concerned that you may harbor ulterior motives. Your honesty with me and my behavior allows me to remain faithful to my personal desires with greater ease.” Spock is surprised by the armful of Nyota he suddenly has, but quickly readjusts his hold to support her better and deepen the kiss. “Although you need no reason, what prompted such an emotional display?”

“You are such a sweet, sweet person, Spock,” Nyota says, cradling his head in her hands. “I’m just reminded of that every day.”

“Because you are Human I must remind you frequently,” Spock says, the only sign of his jest in the amusement in his eyes. 

Nyota snorts and laughs. “Remind me of other things, again and again,” she murmurs against his mouth. 

“Such as?” Spock asks as he slides his hand up Nyota’s skirt. 

“Such as how your face looks when I ride you.”

“You will need plenty of reminders,” Spock says as he adjusts his grip to fill his hands with Nyota’s ass. He gives it a satisfying squeeze and almost tumbles them both to the bed at the rush of pleasure between them. 

“I’m so, so forgetful.”

***

M’Umbha sighs happily. It’s a beautiful night in Nairobi; the stars twinkle brightly and the bustling core of the city is just far enough to be a pleasant hum in the background. She looks over at her handsome husband, the glow of his padd lighting his still smooth face and she sees the man she brought home to her parents almost forty years ago.

“My wife, I can feel you thinking from here,” Alhamisi murmurs, still reading his article. 

“I’m thinking that I’m still in love with my husband,” she says.

“Drink your tea.” Alhamisi glances up at her fondly. 

M’Umbha pretends to sulk as she picks up her teacup. “I miss Nyota.”

“She’s working.”

“I know.” M’Umbha huffs on her tea and takes a sip. “I’m so used to her coming home for the summer. I had plans.”

“What, speaking in every language you know in efforts to stump each other? Let it go, M’Umbha. You haven’t won in years.”

M’Umbha’s eyes widen. “You’ve turned against me, my own husband,” she hisses. 

“No wonder Kamau is so dramatic,” Alhamisi starts to laugh at his wife’s expression. “Let me stop before I’m sleeping in a guest bedroom.”

“So smart, that husband of mine,” M’Umbha retorts sweetly. “It’s just so quiet.”

“Doesn’t have to be. We can travel.”

M’Umbha narrows her eyes. “Your leave was approved?”

“It was,” he says. “I’ll have two weeks next month, free to take my wife wherever she wants.”

“Wherever she wants? My, she must be really special,” M’Umbha says.

“She is. She’s a doctor and very beautiful and you wouldn’t know she’s given birth to three children.” Alhamisi says. “I’m even going to let her pick the place.”

M’Umbha gasps happily and claps her hands. “Guess where I want to go?”

“Where?”

“San Francisco!” M’Umbha smiles brightly, but falters when her words don’t elicit the expected response. “San Francisco,” she says again.

“I heard you the first time. Why?”

“Ambassador Gouth is going to be visiting the Tellerite embassy and I haven’t seen him in a few years. It’ll be nice to catch up,” M’Umbha says.

“That’s amazing that his visit happens to coincide with my newly revealed leave.”

M’Umbha shrugs happily. “The universe is in love with me, what can I say.”

“You can say you want to spy on Nyota,” Alhamisi says, and roars with laughter at the look on his wife’s face. 

“I thought you knew me better than that. Our youngest daughter is more than capable of spending the summer in San Francisco. All she’s doing is working because that’s all she does.”

“Who are you trying to convince, me or you?”

“I’m having flashbacks to Kamau and Makena.”

“ _See_.” 

Alhamisi rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. “There are some things that I need to do in San Francisco. If we’re going for legitimate business then it’s not spying.”

“Not spying at all. We’re concerned parents.”

“Nyota’s twenty-one, M’Umbha.”

“So? What does that mean? She’s not too grown for concerned parents!” M’Umbha is practically vibrating out of her chair with indignation. 

Alhamisi wonders if he should tell Dzifa to ready that guest bedroom. “I never said that. Nyota’s shown us what type of person she is many times. She’s shown us she’s learned the lessons we sought to teach. What more do you want?”

M’Umbha sniffs and returns to her tea. “I’m not being unreasonable,” she mutters.

“Never said that, lovely one.”

She can’t help but melt just slightly at the endearment. “So where do you want to go?”

“I get to choose?” Alhamisi is genuinely surprised. “Mark the calendar!”

“Or you could mark my words,” M’Umbha says sweetly. 

“You don’t scare me,” Alhamisi retorts. “But I do have business in San Francisco. We can see our daughter and while I wine and dine my wife.”

“Doctor Uhura, you are wise and handsome,” M’Umbha says, and sips her tea. 

“Don’t forget modest.”


	6. A Whale of a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Nyota share an experience.

“Mister Spock, we’re almost in position. I’ve located an active pod and they appear to be playing, usually the best time to experience and close encounter.” Captain Paulo Lugado gestures from the other side of the holographic display of the ocean depths. 

“Thank you, Captain,” Spock says with a nod before sparing a moment to ascertain Nyota’s position. She is across the room with the captain’s son, Juan. From what Spock can hear it appears the young man is considering a career with Starfleet. Spock continues to listen as he attempts to create greater mobility in his wetsuit by flexing his arms. 

“ _Ojalá que no lo haría_ \- I wish she wouldn’t fill his head with space,” Captain Lugado murmurs next to Spock.

Spock is unsure if Lugado will welcome his opinion or advice, and since there isn’t enough evidence either way, decides against offering counsel. “Do you wish me to retrieve my partner?” Spock is confident part of Juan’s interest is Nyota’s unbearably flattering blue bikini, since he keeps glancing down at Nyota’s front in what he must think is a surreptitious manner.

It is not.

Lugado sighs deeply. “No, I want Juan to make his own choice. I have to trust the sea is in his blood, like the rest of our family. He just worries there will come a time when there are no whales.”

“An unfortunate yet plausible future,” Spock says. The whale population of Earth has hovered exceedingly close to the edge of extinction for centuries before First Contact. 

“Please don’t say that.” Lugado’s face is pained. “I hope to never see that in my lifetime.”

Spock frowns at the self-serving sentimentality behind his words. “All the more reason for your son to cultivate multiple options for his future, is it not?”

Lugado merely looks at Spock. “Juan, come help me,” he snaps at his son. Juan reluctantly pries himself from what appears to be an amused Nyota and heads after his father. 

Nyota catches Spock’s eye with a raised eyebrow. “What was that about?” she asks as he comes to stand inside of her personal space. He is close enough that she has to look up at him and Spock is unclear as to why that pleases him. 

“The captain of this vessel fears you may have lured his son to Starfleet instead of the family tradition of whale diving facilitation.” 

“Is that so?” Nyota smiles as Spock leans down to his nose against hers. “I was just answering questions. Juan’s working on what he hopes to be translation software for whale songs. He hopes to do more than accidentally communicate with them.”

“A commendable goal,” Spock murmurs as he watches Nyota’s lips. He wishes to kiss her. 

“Which reminds me, I’m surprised you’re doing this,” she admits as she runs her fingernail along the rubber covering most of his body. 

“Doing what?” Spock asks. “About to kiss you or going on this expedition?” 

Nyota rises onto her tiptoes and kisses him firmly. “Both,” she whispers against his mouth. “I never thought you would want to do something like this.” Falling backward onto her heels she creates an unwanted distance between them. 

“Explain,” Spock says. He wants to pay attention to what Nyota is saying but his hands are at her waist and she is safe in the circle of his arms. He required a great deal of self-control to even leave the bed that morning. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to swim.”

“I swim,” Spock points out, though usually he does not wear a full seven millimeter thick wetsuit to do so.

Nyota laugh is barely there. “True, I always felt like it was a concession. I never want to bully you into doing something you don’t like to do, or even prefer to do.”

“I do not find it demanding to participate in activities that bring you joy.”

“But I don’t want to have fun at your expense,” Nyota says. 

“I do not experience those particular situations as such,” Spock says. “You are always extremely attentive afterward. I am appreciative.”

Nyota parses his meaning and barks a laugh. “Spock,” she says, her expression gleefully scandalized. “You are… I don’t know what to say about you.”

“You find me almost unbearably handsome and cannot live without me,” Spock says without hesitation.

Nyota’s shoulders shake briefly with suppressed mirth. “You’re very handsome and I can’t live without you,” she agrees. “But tell me you didn’t choose this because you thought I would like it.” Her fingers run along one of the seams across his chest and he wishes he could feel her hand through the material.

“While I am aware of your enjoyment of large bodies of water and swimming in said bodies of water would make you amenable to this excursion, I have alternative reasons for this activity.”

Nyota runs her hands up the back of Spock’s head and down the sides of his ears and catches the barest outline of a thought and her eyes widen. “You want to meld with a whale?” 

“It has been done before,” Spock says, and Nyota notes it’s almost defensive. 

“I’m sorry; I’m just surprised.”

“Apology accepted,” Spock says.

Nyota looks at him. “That’s not public knowledge is it?” she asks. “That Vulcans can meld with whales?”

“It is not. There are poems on Vulcan written about the mental voice of Earth whales. It is a unique encounter I have long wanted to experience. An experience I wish to share with you.”

“That is… amazing and wonderful,” Nyota says.

“Mister Spock? Miss Uhura? We’re in position.” Juan says as he ambles into the room. He glances back and forth between Nyota and Spock and looks disappointed. Spock cannot help but tighten his grip just enough to make Nyota laugh. She looks at him knowingly and pokes him in his rubber-clad chest. 

“Thank you, Juan,” she says as she breaks free from Spock and saunters past the younger man. As soon as Nyota’s passed his eyes are glued to her rear end and Spock feels a growl reverberate in his chest. 

Juan jerks at the sound and whirls to look at Spock, who is suddenly right in front of him. “It would behoove you not to look too closely,” Spock says carefully. 

Juan opens his mouth and closes it. “Of course,” he says, shakily. 

Spock stares at him for a moment longer before going to join Nyota on the deck. He does a couple of deep lunges and stretches to force as much flex at the joints of his suit as possible. There is something akin to excitement bubbling in his mind as he moves into stretching poses of _Suus Mana_. He wants nothing to interfere with what he hopes to experience. 

He feels Nyota’s gaze on him, and yes, Spock may have put a little more flex into his muscles than strictly necessary but it was hardly preening. Merely _almost_. 

But if one cannot preen for their mate, who can one preen for?

A whale crests the moderate waves portside two hundred feet away and his excitement is renews. When Nyota hands him his rebreather and helps him seal his hood, he can feel the tremulous feeling through her skin and her smile is wide and expectant. 

“Miss Uhura, would you like help putting on your fins?” Juan asks, against better judgment and previous warning. He holds up the fins with a bright smile on his face.

“No, thank you,” Nyota says quickly, taking two pairs from the young man with a gracious smile. She doesn’t want any bloodshed if she can help it. Her mouth twitches with a smile as Spock takes the fins from her. 

“Something amuses you?” Spock asks. 

“Yes,” Nyota says as she leans against the deck railing. Spock gently removes Nyota’s sandals and helps her into the swimfins. 

“May I ask what?” Spock puts his own swimfins on and resists the urge to slap the fins against the deck. Nyota’s smile turns knowing as she tucks her mass of braids into a cap. 

“Your displays of possession for Juan’s sake.”

Spock has a stronger urge to slap his fins against the deck in the wake of a pang of embarrassment. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” Nyota says simply. “Your emotional assessment was correct; I was amused.”

Spock exhales through his nose as Juan returns to bring them goggles but Spock declines his; salt water will not irritate his inner eyelid. They make the awkward walk to the ladder and down onto the freeboard. Spock moves his feet to churn the water that spills in while Nyota climbs in after.

He double checks the seal on her goggles, knowing she hates water in her eyes and finds a loop of braided hair at the nape of her neck that didn’t quite make it into the cap. “Am I presentable?” Nyota asks after Spock tucks it into her swim cap. She turns her head both ways so Spock can inspect.

“You are infinitely acceptable,” he says, and wishes to bump his face against hers but the masks are in the way. He settles for a squeeze of her hands before they insert the rebreathers into their mouths. 

“Now, don’t get too close, but if the whales are feeling curious they may try and invade your personal space. We’re small enough that they shouldn’t feel threatened but if they accidentally hit you with their tail or with a fin it will still hurt in the water. Are we clear?” Captain Lugado asks. They nod in the affirmative. “Alright. Set your chronometers for thirty minutes, and we’ll see you then.” 

Spock gives Nyota another once over to check her equipment before they fall backward into the water. Immediately he feels the pull of gravity downward, an uncomfortable sensation as he waits for the chill to set in. He feels it in his hands but the wetsuit keeps him sufficiently warm. He kicks to right himself and follows Nyota through the very blue water. 

It’s serene and calming, the press of the water working uniformly on his body. Nyota waits for him to catch up and she holds her hand up for him to take. Spock experiences her excitement at the schools of small tropical colored fish that dark around and between them. Joined, they dive further down where the light is no longer dappled but hazy.

They break apart when Nyota has to work harder to dive down but they don’t go too much farther; even Spock has to admit the yawning darkness below seems ominous. They continue to swim toward where they last saw the whales when suddenly a colossal shape from below detaches itself from the dark and begins to rise. 

Nyota almost screams into her rebreather; it’s a whale, it’s huge and it is magnificent. It moves through the water with grace that defies size. Immediately she feels dwarfed and a little out of her depth. She treads water, transfixed as Spock, completely unafraid as he slowly attempts to maneuver in front of the animal. 

The whale seems to see him but does not slow its ascent. Spock follows so Nyota has no choice but to do so as well, marveling that as far apart that she and Spock are they’re still not on either end of the whale’s body. 

Nyota tries to calm her breathing as she ventures closer to watch the whale break the surface and slip back beneath the water. Spock reaches out slowly enough for the whale to move away but it does not, allowing him to press his palm flat against the skin just in front of its colossal eye. With wonder Nyota watches as it slides shut. Spock stills, floating next to the massive creature as they connect. 

She hovers, feeling like a proud interloper when Spock lifts his hand, beckoning her closer. Awkwardly she swims forward and takes his hand. Briefly she feels nothing but Spock’s skin against hers, and then a sensation she can only describe as _stepping into a circle_.

Nyota is falling from a great height into a space so old and vast it is almost incomprehensible. She is… aware. The turn of the Earth through the universe, the comforting press of the mother Ocean it does not mind sharing. There is enough room for all if we are respectful. Curiosity like a great warm fire and such… intelligence. Knowledge in a language she cannot speak with words that cannot fit in her throat for experiences she can never have. 

Nyota struggles against being smothered under the great identity and begins to convulse in the water as her body attempts to accommodate the whale’s mind inside her own body. Dimly she’s aware of Spock wrenching his hand away from hers and suddenly she’s horribly alone in her head, in her tiny and limited mind, almost shocked at the remembering she’s still under water. All she can do is float awkwardly as she breathes in and out. So much is gone now, Nyota despairs. Oh god, it’s so limited. 

She watches as Spock remains with the whale for a few seconds longer, then the whale’s eye opens and it looks at and _through_ Nyota before it turns its body and slides to the depths. Spock turns and grasps her gently, prodding her to swim as her mind relearns how to move her Human body again. She doesn’t know what to think because she’s somewhere between wanting to follow the whale home and returning to the surface. 

Spock has to help her onto the freeboard, but once most of her body is onboard she pulls the rebreather from her mouth and sucks air into lungs that were never starving. “I was always afraid that they were sentient,” she mutters to herself, wrenching off her goggles and moving over so Spock can board. 

“Afraid?” Spock’s voice sounds slightly shaken. “Explain.”

“I don’t want to,” she whispers, ashamed of and cursing her Humanity.

“Nyota?”

“Can we go?” She’s still not looking at him when Spock waves off Juan and Captain Lugado’s worried assistance. 

Spock gathers himself before he moves to his feet and helps Nyota to hers. The meld was an experience he will never forget and may prove difficult to express in mere words. The mind of the creature was both unique, incredibly familiar and so very powerful. Through Spock it had reached down into his familial bond and made itself known to both his father, his mother and his grandmother light years away. 

It had been… politely curious. 

If it had not been for that part of his brain that is forever Nyota’s, Spock would have melded with the whale for hours, learning truths of the universe. He had felt her slipping away, attempting to subsume the vast mind of the whale. If she had continued – Nyota would have lost herself. Her consciousness would have been pressed out of existence.

Spock’s shudder has nothing to do with the chill. “I wish to apologize,” he says as he kneels to remove Nyota’s swimfins. 

Nyota blinks down at him with a vague frown. “What for?” she asks. “That was…” She rips her swimcap off and the dark wave of her braids gleam in the sunlight as they tumble about her face and shoulders. “That was a singular experience,” she says.

“I was not prepared for the enormity of the whale’s mind. The works describing melds with whales often stated there was a sensation that defied description. In my desire to experience this type of mind firsthand I discounted the unknown variables and – ” Nyota crouches and kisses Spock fiercely. He rubs his face against hers in dismay as he feels the fresh tear tracks on her cheeks. “Please, tell me; do you hurt?” he asks. “A Vulcan healer may be able to repair any damage you’ve garnered through my folly.”

“I’m not injured, Spock,” Nyota murmurs as she turns her head to run her cheek against his, wiping her tears on his skin. Once upon a time Nyota considered the gesture strange and a little awkward, but it allows Nyota to get an impression of Spock’s feelings when he’s projecting and feels more intimate than a kiss at times. “I think I started to slip away there,” she admits. 

 

“I am sorry.”

“For what? Spock, that wasn’t your fault. I don’t even know what to say right now.” Nyota rests her forehead against his cheek. “Except thank you. I’m pretty sure I’ll remember this for as long as I live.” 

Spock tightens his grip on Nyota and cannot help but agree. 

She hesitates. “Maybe later you can show me the meld from your point of view? You didn’t seem to be as overwhelmed.”

“It would be my pleasure, my Nyota.”

It takes twenty minutes to return to the mainland; Nyota is silent the entire time save for one word responses while she helps Spock remove his wetsuit. When she does not think he is looking she gazes at his profile with a small, almost puzzled smile. Spock wishes to ask what she thinks about but he wonders if he wants to know the answer. 

Eventually his concern begins to outweigh what fear he may have. “Nyota, do you wish to speak about what you experienced further?” he asks as she says goodbye to Juan and Captain Lugado. 

Nyota’s smile turns wistful but she twines her arm around his as they walk back to the flitter. “I’m currently hating my species and wondering why anyone in the universe wants to have anything to do with us,” she says. 

“You are sad,” Spock says. 

“I am.” Nyota leans her head against Spock’s shoulder. She looks up at him, assessing. 

“Will you ask your question or will you merely look at me?” Spock teases, hearing the echo of his father’s voice in his mind. It startles him how much Nyota is like his mother at times, familiarity experienced through different mannerisms meant to convey the same emotion. 

Love.

It suddenly seems overwhelming, what he feels for Nyota, and try as he might the desire to swallow repeatedly will not lessen. Spock exhales through his nose and tightens his grip on her; he may not be able to verbalize what he needs, but he will try his hardest. 

“I may just continue to look at you,” Nyota says as Spock triggers the door to the flitter. She climbs into the passenger seat and idly watches him begin the pre-flight check and start procedure. “Why aren’t whales the dominate species on this planet?” she wonders aloud. “They’d probably do a better job of it than we are.”

“Do not despair.” Spock spreads his hands along the console and merely feels the polymers beneath his fingertips. “A species can only do as best as it can with what it available. It is only logical.”

“Logic… That felt useless out there. It felt like an excuse we’re hiding behind to justify every petty and thoughtless and evil thing we do.”

Spock did not consider that. “I do not understand your emotional response.” 

“Shame.”

“Explain.”

Nyota sighs loudly. “I felt unworthy. They are smarter than we treat them and there was no malice. No condemnation.”

Spock reaches out, still not understanding. Nyota threads her fingers through his and pushes her emotions as best she can. He experiences what she calls shame and breaks it down; overwhelming disappointment in her species and fear; fear of underestimating an intelligence while doing her job in space. If she could she would give the whales the whole world and leave them in peace. “Nyota, they do not want the whole world,” he says.

Nyota smiles ruefully. “Okay, Spock,” she says.

Spock knows she is slightly disappointed in _him_ now, but he is unsure of how to correct the issue. “I am sorry I do not quite understand,” he says.

“It’s okay. I don’t know if I quite understand it myself and it’s in my brain,” Nyota jokes. 

“Will you consent to a meld upon our return? I wish to ascertain your mental state fully.” Spock resists the urge to pull Nyota into his lap and hold her closer. She catches the stray desire and smiles fully, the smile she reserves for him and something within his metaphorical chest loosens. 

“Maybe that won’t be the only thing you see fit to do when we get back,” Nyota says, and twists her fingers into the _ozh'esta_ . Spock stares at her for a moment and gets the flitter into the air quickly. 

***

Gaila throws her head back and groans as she tries not to squeeze Exotic Greg’s head where it’s buried between her thighs. He has quite a talented tongue when he doesn’t use it for saying the wrong things. Sitting on his face is the only way Gaila found to shut him up while she’s waiting for his cock to recover. 

The refractory period of some Human men leaves a lot to be desired. 

She’s working on her third orgasm like this and it’s making her body feel amazing. What in the world would she do without orgasms? Gaila trips into her climax with a surprised and delighted laugh, her favorite way to go. 

Exotic Greg pats her thigh and Gaila guesses she should get off of his mouth so he can breathe but temporarily fantasizes about applying a little extra pressure and killing him. It’s either that or let him talk. Pity, because he is going to talk. “Thanks,” she says, rolling over and stretching, feeling the pull of twanging muscles deliciously. “I needed that.”

Greg licks his lips. “Happy to help out. My job is to make sure the residents are fully satisfied.”

“Then you have more work to do if I’m supposed to be _fully_ satisfied,” Gaila says and before Greg can retort there’s a knock at her door. “Come in!”

“I’m naked, jeez,” Greg yelps as he scrambles to cover himself. The comforter and sheet were pushed to the floor during their previous activities, so he exposes his bare ass as Nyota walks through the door. 

“Yes, you are. Nyota,” Gaila crows happily. “Good afternoon.”

Nyota doesn’t bat an eye at Gaila’s nudity. “Hey, Gaila. I looked for you by the pool but Staskon informed me you had a guest.”

“ _Still_ has a guest,” Greg snaps as he gestures at himself. 

Nyota smothers her smile. “You’re Greg, right?”

“Exotic Greg,” Gaila corrects.

“Of course. Exotic Greg, pardon me.” 

Exotic Greg’s face is red. “Why do you say that like you’re laughing at me?” he asks as he looks between Gaila and Nyota. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Nyota asks innocently. “Are you busy, Gaila?”

“Yes!”

“No.” Gaila looks at Greg as she slides from the bed. She pulls on a dress from the floor and walks over to the table, which has a beautifully lush fruit basket amongst Gaila’s scattered belongings. She picks up an orange and throws it to him. “I’ll be back, you’re going to need this.”

Greg catches the orange and begins peeling with an enthusiastic grin. 

Nyota lets herself be pulled from the room with an eye roll. “Gaila of Kolar, known throughout the galaxies as a generous and nurturing lover.”

Gaila shrugs a shoulder. “I endeavor to be gracious in all things,” she mocks. “So what’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?” 

“Because I haven’t been able to see you much these past two weeks but when I do there’s a certain expression on your face,” Gaila says. “It’s not there now.”

Nyota winces in embarrassment. “What kind of expression?”

“Dumb,” Gaila drawls. “Dumb in love.”

Nyota’s head drops back as she half laughs and half groans. “No,” she mutters, and tells Gaila her amazing day and its activities and Gaila squeals loudly. “Shut up, Gaila,” she hisses. 

“What? I’m happy for you,” Gaila says.

“Why, because I melded with a whale?” Nyota asks.

Gaila’s shoulders droop. “No, because Spock obviously love you. He’s always dreamed of doing that and he decides he wants to do it with you? You don’t do that unless you love them.”

Nyota opens her mouth to retort but realizes she has nothing to retort _with_. A sound causes her to turn, and she and Gaila find a disapproving T’Madh waiting. “Yes?” Nyota asks politely. 

T’Madh’s eyes flicker to Gaila and there’s a trace of distaste in her impassive visage. “We have not cleaned your room in one week.”

Gaila makes a show of blinking slowly. “…And?”

Nyota coughs quietly to cover the desire to laugh at the hoarfrost of Gaila’s tone. 

“You impede our work,” T’Madh says.

“I’m using my room and don’t want it cleaned right now,” Gaila says firmly. “I’m using it for sex. Right this minute.”

T’Madh’s nostril’s flare, the only concession to the irritation the Vulcan must feel. “We would like to clean the room,” she says.

“Oh, that’s fine. When I’m done. With sex,” Gaila says. 

T’Madh looks as if she wants to say something; her eyes flicker to Nyota and she turns on her heel and leaves. Nyota doesn’t move until she can no longer hear T’Madh’s footfalls. She looks back at Gaila with a frown. “If you’re having a problem with T’Madh, you should tell Spock.”

Gaila waves the advice and her own annoyance away with a flick of her wrist. “Not that important,” she says. “I’ve had worse done to me than rudeness. Rudeness? That’s all she has? I eat rudeness in place of an actual meal usually consumed after one wakes,” she says. 

“Breakfast,” Nyota supplies. 

“I’ve already eaten.”

Nyota smothers her amusement as she nods. “Well, let me let you get back to Exotic Greg,” she says.

“No, I want to finish talking about how much Spock loves you,” Gaila says. “You guys have been all over the place since we got here.”

“Spock’s idea,” Nyota admits. “He says he wants a greater role in our social activities.”

“Well that’s good, right? You always wondered if you were dragging him places he didn’t want to go.”

“True,” Nyota says. “We’ve been to two linguistics lectures, four theoretical mathematics lectures and I got to watch Spock participate in two chess tournaments. He’s… amazing,” she says dreamily. 

“You’re so in love it’s sickening.” Gaila’s smile is wide and delighted. 

“Gaila, that’s not… that’s not what we’re talking about right now,” Nyota hisses, but there’s no heat in the presence of such unrestrained glee.

Gaila feels so smug she may take root. “What is your Human brain telling you to defeat your hope and poke holes in your confidence?” 

Nyota’s mouth collapses into a line. “It’s – It’s not – My Human brain _is_ the problem,” she admits. “He took me whale diving yesterday.”

“Eh, not my thing.”

“It was wonderful,” Nyota says. 

“I’m smelling a buttocks,” Gaila says, and crosses her arms. “What’s the problem if you had a great time?”

Nyota explains what she experienced in the meld. “The whole meld with the whale made me feel for the first time that maybe my Humanity isn’t what Spock needs. He finally gets to do something he’s always dreamed of doing and because he wants to include me he has to cut it short? I held him back. I might always hold him back, maybe not now-” Nyota breaks off, frowning at Gaila’s skeptical eyebrow.

The Orion leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Nyota’s mouth. “A bit of me to you, to remember your courage and if you don’t have any more,” Gaila kisses her again, “a bit of my courage for you.”

“Courage?”

“Yes, courage. You’re going to have to have courage to be yourself. You can’t be more or less. And I think in this area of life there isn’t _more_ or _less_. Just different.”

“I guess,” Nyota says. 

“I know,” Gaila says firmly. “You’re good at liking different pieces and letting them fit together. That’s you and Spock. Just… don’t overthink it.”

“I can’t help it.”

Gaila nods. “Yes, I know.”

Nyota hugs Gaila tightly. “What would I do without you?” she whispers.

“Hope we never find out. Now Exotic Greg isn’t the most well coded software, but I think he should be done with that orange.” 

Nyota snorts. “Does he know you’re serious? That he really is going to need that fuel?”

Gaila’s grin turns sly. “He’s gonna learn today,” she cracks. 

“Don’t hurt him,” Nyota crows.

Gaila looks scandalized. “But what if he asks?”

***

It’s early evening in Shi’Kahr, one of Amanda’s favorite times. The setting sun’s light isn’t as harsh and there is a dry breeze that blows through the house from the nearby mountains. It’s after dinner and she and Sarek are in the drawing room catching up on various personal correspondences.

“Ambassador Thira sh'Clasia has requested our presence to dine with her and her family.” 

Amanda’s shoulders slump. “Why,” she whines. 

Sarek’s expression bares a ghost of a smile. “Perhaps if you were not so skilled in debate she would lose interest.” 

“Not debate. Arguing,” Amanda corrects. “And it’s never about anything interesting. She just wants another chance in a public forum to prove Andorian logic superior to Vulcan.”

“I will accept their invitation but you do not have to join me,” he says. 

She purses her lips and stabs at the touchscreen of her padd. “No. I won’t abandon you to those harpies. Besides, I do love watching her beat her head against a solid brick wall.”

“Your hyperbole includes such violent images,” Sarek murmurs. “And am I to understand I am the brick wall in this scenario?”

“Oh, don’t you start,” Amanda warns. “I was hoping to have you to myself before you have to head back to Earth,” she says. 

“I, too had wished to spend considerable time solely in your presence. It is unclear as to how long I may be on Earth.”

“Have you spoken to Spock? Does he know you’re coming?” Amanda tries to keep her tone light but the agitation she feels leaks through the bond and she watches as Sarek’s shoulders stiffen across the room. 

“I have not.”

“Why not?”

“There is no logic in doing so,” Sarek says. 

Amanda takes a deep breath. “He’s your son.”

“He is. He will remain my son even if he is not alerted to my presence on Earth,” he points out. 

Amanda’s mouth twists in irritation. _Technically_ , she can’t find fault with what her husband says, and just as soon as she finishes the thought she can feel his warm smugness. “Don’t do that, it’s unbecoming,” she snaps halfheartedly. 

“Passing appreciation of one’s own logic is not unreasonable,” Sarek says. 

Amanda watches her husband for a moment before she returns to her own device. As she moves an old message to the trash she notices there is already a notification inside. She opens it and narrows her eyes. “Sarek, why are the notifications for Briarcliff set to automatically go to the trash?”

Sarek looks up. “Amanda, it is none of our business. You gifted the house to Spock and it is he that is responsible for it. We do not need to be alerted to his use of the residence.”

Amanda blinks and tries not to huff. “None of our business,” she mutters. “I can’t even believe you think that,” she says. 

“I have no desire to argue with you, Amanda. If you wish to converse, you may return to the subject of my superior logic and how I deftly undermine Ambassador Thira’s ill-conceived arguments.”

Amanda laughs in spite of her mood and groans. “My men,” she mourns fondly. “What will I do with you two?”

“Unclear,” Sarek says. “But you are beautiful and I wish to return to our bedchamber for an early evening.” He turns off his device and crosses the room to offer his hand to his wife. 

Amanda looks at it with amusement before she accepts. “You’re not getting off so easily.”

Sarek’s eyes gleam with heat. “There will be no more talk of our son and his choice to live in his residence,” he says. 

Amanda opens her mouth to retort but Sarek leans down and kisses her thoroughly. When they part Amanda is a little dazed and very warm. “You’re manipulating the discussion, Ambassador,” she retorts as he tucks her hand into his arm. 

Sarek’s smile is very faint. “There will be no discussion,” he says, and is pleased as Amanda leans her head against his bicep and laughs again. 

***

“ _Spock_ ,” Chris says. 

Spock tilts his head. “Your tone suggests you are surprised to receive my call. I do not understand because you arranged this contact.” 

Chris’ shoulders droop slightly. “ _It’s not surprise, Spock. It’s… delight. You look good. Relaxation agrees with you._ ”

Spock ignores Chris’ pointed expression. “You wished to speak to me about my countenance?” he asks. 

“ _No. I just got out of a meeting with the Admiralty. My choice for First Officer has been vetted and I’ve got authorization to extend a formal invitation to my candidate_.”

“Would congratulations be in order?” Spock asks. 

Chris smiles. “ _More than you know_.” 

“Do you wish me to contact them on your behalf?” It wouldn’t be the first time Chris asked Spock to correspond between him and another of lesser rank. He says it is so Spock will gain the experience of many types of interaction. 

Spock isn’t so sure.

Chris blinks and appears confused. “ _No, Spock. You don’t need to contact anyone because I’m contacting them now. It’s you, Spock_.”

Spock blinks at the screen. 

“ _Say something, Spock_.”

“I have been caught unawares,” Spock admits. 

“ _How? I told you I wanted you as my first officer after Number One was poached by Starfleet Intelligence. I was serious_.”

“I never doubted your veracity, Christopher,” Spock clarifies. “I am merely surprised you were able to overcome the objections raised.” 

Chris sighs. “ _I did what I needed to. The Enterprise deserves the best and that’s you. Besides, how would I break someone else in so quickly? We’ve only got a year before she’s done_.” He peers at Spock. “ _I know better than to ask you this, but are you happy_?”

“I am… pleased,” Spock admits. 

“ _Try not to tell too many people; not until I contact the rest of my senior officers. Enjoy your vacation while you’ve got it because we’re going to be in high gear once it’s over_.” 

Spock nods once. “I would like to submit my candidacy as your Chief Science Officer as well.”

Chris chuckles. “ _I’m not surprised. I won’t ask if you think you can do it_ ,” he says.

“I am gratified. There are other officers, _Human_ officers, who have held both positions without the benefit of my greater stamina. I am foremost a scientist, Christopher. You once assured me that would not be forgotten. The Enterprise will have the best of labs and equipment in the fleet.” 

“ _Alright. One less station I’ll have to agonize over. I’ve got more calls to make. Congratulations, Spock. I look forward to working closely with you again_.”

“And I, you,” Spock says. “Spock out.” He ends the call and sits back in his seat, his mind going over a multitude of details he will need to attend to in his confirmed roles. The idea of overseeing the specialized construction of the labs on the Enterprise excites Spock; first and foremost he is a scientist. After his tour with Pike on the Endeavour, Spock wished to go back into space but Chris suggested he wait and teach instead. 

Now the Enterprise is in his grasp. 

But what does that mean for him and Nyota? 

Spock knows Nyota desires the Enterprise. It is only logical; Nyota is highly intelligent and very capable, having been promoted to ensign and well on her way to making lieutenant before graduation. Her transcripts are impeccable and her drive is formidable. She is perfect for the Federation flagship. 

But the timing is not. 

He seeks out Nyota. 

She is at the entrance to the garden, beneath an arch of summer roses, her back to him. Nyota cradles a sunrise colored bloom in her hand as she examines it gently and Spock greatly wishes to sigh. She wears a simple grey tee shirt and short white shorts. Her long brown legs are exposed and she isn’t wearing shoes. Spock remembers the last time he saw Nyota so casually dressed. It was in his apartment, and they have forty-eight hours of uninterrupted time together.

“I can hear you,” Nyota says as she turns and gives him a big smile. He wishes to return the expression but finds he cannot. “Is there something wrong?” she asks, her own expression faltering. 

Yes, he wishes to say. Spock will leave with the Enterprise and Nyota will be stationed on another ship. They will write and send subspace messages to each other but physical proximity will be difficult to plan, if not impossible. Spock’s heart pounds in his abdomen as he comes closer and trails the back of his hand down Nyota’s bare arm. 

She looks up at him and he finds it within to smile so he may ease the worry he can see in her expression. “I desire to kiss you,” he murmurs. 

“Then kiss me,” Nyota says, and winds her arms around Spock’s neck. 

He pulls her close, savoring her slim form against his. Nyota’s face is free of makeup and her hair is a voluminous and wavy mass about her head, having recently removed the intricate braids that had bound her hair. Spock doesn’t tell her but he likes her hair wild and free, whether straightened or wavy or heavy with water after a shower. Spock presses kisses against her cheek and up to her temple so he can smell the vanilla of her conditioner. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asks. 

“One could request the same information from you,” he says. “I have sensed your odd melancholy since our meld with the whale three days and fourteen hours ago. Are you certain you are not experiencing any ill effects? Perhaps something has changed?”

Nyota’s arms tighten around Spock’s neck. “The meld isn’t the problem.”

“So you _do_ have a problem?” Spock asks. 

“It’s a problem I’m going to have to overcome,” she says, and gazes at the flowers in their surroundings.

Spock wishes to press her but he does not. “My mother had the roses planted because wished for me to have a memento of her while I was on Earth. My father and I attempted to explain it was unnecessary. My memory is not faulty.”

Nyota chuckles. “That’s not what a memento is for. It’s to _make_ you remember every time you see it, not just to think of her when you wanted.”

“That sounds emotionally manipulative,” Spock says, and Nyota barks a surprised laugh. 

“I guess it is,” she says. “But not all manipulation is duplicitous.”

“Such as when you wear very little clothing in my apartment and walk by my person frequently so I may be distracted?”

Nyota blinks and narrows her eyes. “Smartass,” she says.

“The rest of me is reasonably intelligent, too, Nyota,” Spock deadpans, and is gratified when Nyota throws her head back and laughs. 

“Smart lips,” she says, and comes forward to kiss his mouth. “Smart forehead.” She kisses his hairline. “Smart ears.” She kisses the sensitive tip and Spock shudders as she bites gently. Nyota is in his arms before Spock is fully cognizant. He kisses her deeply and lets his fingers trail along the silk of skin that appears at the base of her spine as her tee rides up.

Nyota breaks off the kiss with a laugh as she arches under his touch. “That tickles,” she laughs. 

“Nyota?”

“Yes, _kipenzi_?”

“Does your melancholy stem from your decision to remain with me instead of seeing your family?” Spock asks. 

“ _Siyo_! It’s not – ” Nyota looks away. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

Spock’s eyebrow rises of its own accord. “I have heard that many times in my life. I have also seen it said often in Terran media when one is attempting to sever romantic connections. Is that what you wish to do?”

“No!” Nyota shakes her head fiercely. “That isn’t it at all.”

“Will you tell me what concerns you? If you do not I will be ill equipped to help you,” Spock says.

Nyota looks at him for a moment with a small smile. “It’s nothing serious, Spock, I promise,” she says, and uses the pad of her thumb to ease the furrow of his brow. “So much tension,” she murmurs. “Such worry.”

“I find that I have various concerns for you,” he says. 

Nyota nods. “I worry that I may be holding you back.”

Spock considers. “I have nowhere else to be at the moment,” he says.

Nyota cups his cheek and laughs shallowly. “I know what you’re doing. Nice try. I ruined your big dream to meld with a whale because I couldn’t handle it. You had to cut it short because of my feeble Human brain.”

Spock frowns and puts her down. “Nyota, do I make you feel deficient for your Humanity?” 

“No. Not intentionally,” she says.

“I do not consider your Humanity a negative, Nyota.”

“You don’t have to consider something to be a negative for it to hold you back. You know that,” she says gently. 

“This has bothered you since the meld,” Spock says. 

“Yes.” Nyota scratches her fingers up the nape of Spock’s neck and sighs. “It’s not entirely logical, that’s why I haven’t brought it up.”

“I want for you to feel comfortable enough to talk to me about any concerns you have, logical or not,” Spock says. 

“Understood, but easier said than done at times,” Nyota says. She rises on to her tiptoes and kisses him briefly. “Now why don’t you show me around your garden?”

Spock tucks Nyota’s hand into his elbow and shows her around his mother’s creation. The roses grow as tall as Spock, so thick one cannot see through. Spock pulls a bit of foliage aside so Nyota may see the trellis they are anchored with. “All the roses used in this garden are the ones my mother bred to live on Vulcan. They require little water and even less supervision. She was fascinated to find that they thrive in Earth’s atmospheric conditions even better than on Vulcan.”

“It’s amazing,” Nyota says with a grin. Spock is leading her down multiple twists and turns. “It’s a maze!” 

“It is, but not a considerably large one. There are paths that terminate without an exit but if one is lost one may stand on a bench and they will see which direction is required to reach their destination.” 

They walk past a wall with a wooden door, the roses neatly trimmed away. “Where does this lead?” she asks.

“ _This door leads to our garden. I didn’t mean to snoop but I was curious; we haven’t had a neighbor in this house for a while. I’m Leila. Kalomi.” The blonde young woman blushes an alarming shade of red._

_Fascinating, Spock thinks._

_“I mean my name is Leila Kalomi,” she corrects._

_“You seem agitated,” Spock says. “Have I done something to discomfit you?”_

_Leila blinks rapidly and Spock was unaware that Human eyes could be so blue. “I’ve just never met a Vulcan before,” she says._

_“Oh.”_

_“… And I’m always nervous around really handsome men.”_

_Spock tilts his head. He is… handsome? “You consider me thus?”_

_Leila smiles and Spock is dismayed to find a reciprocating emotion tugging on the corners of his own mouth._

“To the Kalomi residence.” Spock turns his back on the door and tries not to frown. 

“Do you know them?”

“I cannot say that I do now.”

“Oh.” Nyota wants to know more, why the door seems to hold bad memories for Spock, but she struggles to suppress the need to pry. Further along she can see their current path end in bright blue sky and a wrought iron handrail. “Those stairs lead to the beach, right?”

“Correct.”

“Would you like to walk along the beach with me?”

“I am amenable to that suggestion,” Spock says.

Nyota tries not to deflate in the change of mood she can detect in him. “Perhaps we can go to Bi-Rite and get some ice cream and eat it while we walk on the beach?” Just as she’d hoped Spock perks up just a little, quite like a cat. 

“Your suggestion is agreeable,” Spock says, and glances down at Nyota. 

“When you first joined me you looked like there was something wrong. Like you wanted to tell me something.”

Spock does. He wishes to share with her the biggest news of his career and how it will impact their lives. 

_Their_ lives. 

He wishes to broach the subject of a possible future together. Spock is unsure if such talk is welcome. Nyota is dedicated to her work and has shared plans of her own. Plans that do not seem to include Spock. 

“Spock?” Nyota’s concern fills her eyes as she looks at him and his heart clenches in his side. 

“No,” he says instead. Seeing that door is a memento of a painful time, in large part due to Spock and his desires. 

Meditation is in order. 

Nyota looks at him a moment longer and nods. “Alright. I’ll change and we’ll get ice cream."


	7. The Nature of Give and Take

Curiosity gnaws at Gaila as she stares at the double doors leading to Nyota and Spock’s room. She wonders what they’re doing inside. Maybe having sex in new and inventive ways. Maybe Spock knows something awesome and ancient that Vulcans never talk about (along with almost everything about themselves) and that’s why Nyota’s so blissed out.

But Nyota didn’t sound all that happy when she called Gaila’s room and asked her to join her in her suite. No, Nyota sounded dangerously sweet like she does when she’s planning someone’s murder and the imagined method pleases her. 

Gaila’s not up for being murdered today.

Gaila sullenly knocks on the door to Spock and Nyota’s door and seriously thinks about just walking in. Maybe she’ll get to see a Vulcan penis up close and personal. Maybe if she asks Spock he’ll let her see it.

Huh. Gaila hadn’t consid-

Nyota yanks open the door with a tight and knowing smile on her face. “Gaila,” she says. “Do come in.”

Gaila shakes her head. “I have better self-preservation than that,” she says.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Nyota says. Her hand darts out for Gaila, who yelps and tries to turn to run but Nyota grabs her around her waist and hauls her into the room. 

“This would be more fun if we were more nude and in bed,” Gaila says and lets her body go limp. 

Nyota grunts and briefly struggles under Gaila’s weight before they both sink to the ground just inside the suite she’s sharing with Spock. “You’re such an ass,” Nyota says laughing, and shoves at Gaila ineffectually. “You spoke to Spock?”

“Am I not supposed to?” Gaila twists in Nyota’s arms so she can look her in the face. “I thought – ”

“Not like - Gaila. Come on, I trust you with him and I trust him with you.” Nyota rolls her eyes as she moves to her feet and helps Gaila to hers. “No, I’ll show you what I’m talking about.” She grabs her hand and pulls her to a door and throws it open with a flourish. 

“Wow,” is all Gaila can say. It’s an amazingly huge, two person dressing closet with racks and racks of colorful clothing. “What is all this?”

“Osei Sima’s work,” Nyota says. “Dresses and pants and shirts and shorts and skirts…” She trails off with an overwhelmed gesture.

“I…” Gaila inhales and lets it out before she laughs shallowly. “This is not an admission of guilt, okay? But I may have told him you liked Osei Sima,” she admits. 

“I figured since I try really hard not to gush about clothes to Spock you were to blame.”

“Blame? This is a good thing, right? You didn’t have anything to wear and now…” Gaila is biting her lip to keep from laughing again. “You have almost a whole closet full of new clothes. Pretty clothes! Beautiful clothes. Most of which I will try and borrow.”

“But did you tell him to …” Nyota just gestures again.

Gaila shakes her head. “I didn’t. He asked me what designer you liked and I told him.” She starts moving the clothes around. “That’s… all… your size…”

“Down here, Gaila.” Nyota’s eyebrow is raised in amusement as she jerks her thumb toward an end of one of the racks. 

Gaila squeals and rushes over to see what she got. A couple of dresses that compliment her skin tone perfectly, some cute pants and some very colorful tops. “Wow,” she says. “They look exactly my size. Like… exactly. That’s… really impressive but I didn’t expect all this.”

“Neither did I,” Nyota wails. 

Gaila’s hands still on the clothes. “What’s the real problem, Nyota? It’s not like you don’t like clothes.”

“I do,” Nyota admits.

“And you _adore_ Osei Sima.”

“…I do.”

“And you needed more clothes,” Gaila finishes. 

Nyota grumbles.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re right,” Nyota says with a faux saccharine tone. 

“So what is your problem? I swear, is it your brain again?” Gaila removes one of the shirts from the rack and presses it against her. “Where am I going to wear this? It needs to be fancy. Places that serve miniature foods and drinks that bubble.”

“We can go out to lunch somewhere upscale,” Nyota offers. “Maybe a restaurant you want to try? Or you can come with Spock and I to see Natalia Araújo tonight in Brazil.”

“That would be nice but her whole tour is sold out.”

Nyota smiles. “Spock was able to get tickets.”

Gaila’s jaw almost drops. “Are you kidding? Now is not the time to play with my emotions, Nyota.”

“I’m not,” Nyota protests. 

“She’s my favorite Terran musician! I couldn’t even appropriate tickets through that guy Ensign Lee knows.”

“I would think you’d be done with the whole black market by now,” Nyota says.

“In my defense this was before the whole Risa incident and discounts are hard to resist,” Gaila adds.

“Gaila. Only reputable places of business where you have legal recourse.”

Gaila sniffs and goes back to admiring her dress. “I don’t want to talk about that anymore. I want to talk about if we’re going to coordinate outfits at the concert or not. Are you sure you want me to come?”

“What?” Nyota laughs. “She’s your favorite singer, of course you’re coming.”

“The tickets were Spock’s idea, weren’t they?” Gaila asks. 

Nyota nods. “He knows you were disappointed having to miss Risa.”

“What are you going to do with that prince of a Vulcan?” Gaila asks. 

“I might kill him,” Nyota says as she shakes her head. 

“I want off this shuttle ride. Up and down, up and down. Pick one.” Gaila pulls a skirt from the rack and twirls around. “I need shoes. We should go shopping.” She glances at Nyota’s expression and deflates. “What are you thinking about now?”

Nyota takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’ve told him about going overboard.”

“You’re not with him for his money are you?” Gaila asks. 

Nyota blinks. “No,” she says flatly.

“And you don’t want it to look like that, right?”

“I don’t care what other people think. But no, I don’t.”

Gaila gestures around the room. “We’re the only ones here. Both you and I know you’re not with Spock for his money. And if you’re wondering about the people out there in the galaxy then stop. They aren’t in your relationship.” She looks at Nyota shrewdly. “I think there is something else. Maybe it’s not so much Spock’s problem than yours?”

Nyota rubs her arms absently. “Hush.” 

“Then stop being mad at him. That’s not fair and you tell me relationships are supposed to be fair. Can’t always equal, but fair.”

“Gaila, why are you so smart?” Nyota pretends to whine. 

“Because beauty has to match inside and out.” Gaila fluffs her curls. “Now are we going shoe shopping?”

She looks at Gaila for a moment before she throws her hands in the air. “Of course we are,” Nyota says. “Like that was ever an option, _not_ going shoe shopping. I thought you knew me,” she scoffs. 

Gaila is staring at the racks of clothing thoughtfully. “Nyota?”

“Hm?” Nyota looks over. 

“I think I know why Spock gives you such lavish gifts even though you tell him don’t.”

“I’m all ears. I’m listening,” Nyota adds at Gaila confusion. 

“He’s not so good at putting his emotion into words, right? I mean, he is Vulcan.”

“He does just fine when he tries,” Nyota says defensively. “I don’t want from him more than he can give.”

“And this is what we’re looking at. He shows you his regard by doing what he can _for_ you. And you know he’s a perfectionist.”

Nyota chuckles and looks at the clothes in a new light. “Don’t I?”

“So go easy on him, okay? I think he’s trying.”

“Look at you, becoming Spock’s biggest fan,” Nyota says with a small grin. 

“I think I come a close second.” Gaila’s expression is knowing as she leaves a sheepish Nyota amongst her gifts.

***

“Enter.” Chris blinks in surprise when Spock steps through the door, padd in hand. “What are you doing here, Spock? Have a seat.” 

“I have the completed list of officers and lab technicians I wish to request for the science labs of the Enterprise.” Spock sends the file to Pike’s padd and after a second decides to take the offered seat. He watches as the captain looks over his list, nodding and frowning as Humans do instead of asking questions. 

“I know a few of these people and with the rest… Well, you know I trust your judgment.”

“I am gratified,” Spock says. 

“This really could’ve waited. I know you have a guest,” Chris says. “Plans and jet setting around the world, right?” He looks up and Spock is still looking at him. “Or not. Trouble in paradise?” Spock tilts his head and Chris sighs. “Are you having problems you’re running away from?”

Spock frowns. “There is no logic in fleeing a situation; upon return your status is the same,” he says.

“But you’re here instead of there. You could’ve just sent the list. Hell, I wasn’t expecting it for another month. So what’s the problem?”

“It is delicate work, staffing the Federation flagship. I wished to submit my requested personnel before the Exodus leaves in three weeks.” Spock tugs on a jacket that is already as straight as possible. 

“Already poaching, eh? Yeah, sure. Absolutely. I appreciate your dedication even during your supposed vacation.”

Spock nods. 

Chris looks at him appraisingly before glancing back down at the names. “Are you sure that’s all there is to it, though?”

Spock’s posture is ramrod straight as he stares just over Christopher’s left shoulder. “I have questions of a personal nature.”

Chris does his best not to slide out of his chair. “You’re coming to me, willingly, for advice?” he asks. 

“Your tone suggests this will not be in my best interest,” Spock says. “I will –”

“No, no,” Chris cries out. “Don’t go. I was just joking. Badly, again it seems,” he says. He raises his hands in defeat and settles into his best posture. “I’m sorry.”

“Indeed.” Spock again straightens his immaculate jacket. 

The two men sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Chris realizes he’ll have to prompt Spock. “So… of a personal nature. Does this have something to do with your relationship?” 

Spock hesitates. “With the information available I believe that to be correct.”

Chris blinks expectantly, but Spock does not elaborate. _This is going to be like pulling teeth_ , he thinks. “Does this have anything to do with the finalization of your assignment aboard the Enterprise?” 

“Affirmative.” Spock looks even more perturbed. 

Chris steeples his fingers beneath his chin and leans forward as he makes the intuitive leap. Damn. He’s been where Spock is on more than one occasion and it’s never any easier. “You’re going to have to leave her behind, aren’t you?” 

Spock’s expression is severe. “Current information suggests that outcome.”

“That’s the nature of the situation, Spock. You never know when you’ll be loaned out to the academy or sent on the nearest deep space mission. Or get hurt and stuck planet-side. We go where we’re ordered.”

“I find… that the largely tenuous nature of my future it is no longer acceptable.”

Chris pauses. “What are you saying, Spock?” he asks, attempting to keep the dread he feels from his voice. 

“The eventuality that I will be parted from her for prolonged periods of time is disquieting.” Spock searches for the words to encompass what he feels. “I am conflicted. A posting upon the Enterprise is a goal I have set for myself since apprised of its conception. One I greatly desire. Yet I wish to be by her side, always. I want her as my mate and I believe that want has surpassed my desire for the Enterprise.”

Chris’ heart drops through his stomach and suddenly he has a massive headache. He clears his throat in attempts to gather the words he needs. “That is… a very big thing, Spock.”

“I am aware.” Spock’s flat expression sharpens into something severe. 

Chris expels his breath harshly and leans back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. There are times when he forgets that Spock is painfully young, for a Vulcan or a Human. He never wavers once he has a plan and he _always_ has a plan. 

Except in his personal life. No, there he flies by the seat of his pants. All or nothing. And here they are, again, in the same place they were almost six years ago. “Spock,” Chris begins carefully, “have you said anything to your young lady?” He prays fervently to any deity listening that Spock hasn’t. 

“Negative. I am unsure that she has the same desires as myself,” Spock admits. He could look, _wants_ to look, but he is loath to do so. What if she merely sees their relationship as a deep but temporary circumstance? Spock’s heart throbs in his side and he tightens his emotional control. It is not logical to dwell on events that have yet to transpire or in anticipation of information not yet received. 

“I don’t want you hurt again, Spock.”

Spock tilts his head, assessing Chris. “You refer to my experience with Leila Kalomi.”

“Absolutely.”

“I appreciate that the lack of information on this subject has led you to what you consider the most reasonable conclusion but she who I wish to be my wife is nothing like Leila Kalomi. Our relationship is not the same,” Spock says as Chris throws up his hands. “My emotional and physical experiences are not the same.”

A sliver of hope loosens the tension in the base of Chris’ neck. “Fine, Spock, fine. But what are you going to do?” 

“I wish to propose marriage,” Spock reiterates. 

“Before she graduates? I don’t know about her parents, but if it were my daughter I wouldn’t be happy. I would want her to finish her education and get a posting or two under her belt before she decides to commit.” 

Spock frowns. “Illogical. If I meet her needs and encourage her goals then why should we delay our union for years?”

“You thought the same of Leila.” 

Spock draws up to retort but doubt stays his tongue. Hadn’t he thought his logic was clear with Leila? Hadn’t he considered her to be a prime candidate for a good mate? As much as that were true the depths of emotion he experiences with Nyota far outweighs what he felt with Leila. “I did, but I was incorrect,” Spock admits. 

“And what will happen if you find you’re incorrect again?” Chris asks. “You bind yourself to this girl and then what? You gallivant off with the Enterprise and leave her here to get posted on another ship. You might find the love of your life on the Enterprise and you’ve got this young lady here or some other ship and your marriage is this burden because you’ve acted too hastily.”

Spock considers Chris’ words. “The rate in which she and I are of an accord or are able to reach a satisfactory compromise is statistically higher than normal. She has a higher emotional intelligence and has thus far not required me to be either Human or Vulcan. She accepts me entirely. I find I cannot fathom a being that could be better suited for me, nor can I force myself to act so illogically that I am willing to leave her to explore such a small chance.” 

“Well alright then,” Chris says lightly. “Nothing I can do to talk you out of this? Listing the possibilities of your future has already occurred to you, I’m sure.” 

“I have considered many eventualities that would keep us apart and as such I have not approached my intended with my desire to marry.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

Spock hesitates. “I fear her answer,” he says. 

Chris nods. “The two of you haven’t talked marriage before?”

“Negative.” Spock hesitates. “I had no interest in speaking of the future after my experience with Leila. I have yet to fully recognize a wide range of Human social cues and emotional responses that would allow me to discern if such talk would be welcomed or rejected.”

“How long have you two been going out?” 

“One year and two months,” Spock says.

“Wow, that’s… That’s a good amount of time. For most Humans.” Chris nods slowly. “Honestly, if you weren’t in Starfleet you’d probably be talking marriage at this point or sometime soon. She hasn’t said anything?”

Spock swallows. “Negative.” Something that has worried him; when Nyota has a request or a question she does not hesitate to ask, and does so with as little obfuscation as possible while using Standard. It is often refreshing and leaves little for Spock to doubt.

Except this, something which would change their lives. 

“She may be waiting for you to say something. I know a lot of women try not to bring up marriage. Even in this day and age,” Chris says with a shrug of his right shoulder. 

That gives Spock an odd sort of hope. Perhaps Nyota will be amenable to such a conversation. Conceivably she has already considered such a decision. “So she should expect me to broach this subject?” 

“Not necessarily,” Chris says. “Everyone is different.”

“Do you have a suggestion?” 

“Be as honest as possible with yourself and her. Be honest about circumstances you’re facing. Logic isn’t always going to be what helps you make a decision like this. Spock… ” Chris trails off. “Just make sure this is something you want to do. You can’t un-ring that bell, as I’m sure you remember.”

“I have perfect recall.” Spock’s expression is tinged with a bit of shame. 

“That’s one thing I do not envy you.”

Spock leaves Christopher’s office with a few answers and more questions. Once before he had considered someone to be his ideal mate. He wished to spend the rest of their lives bound together in matrimony, parted but never parted. He – 

He is too concerned with his own desires and plans. Nyota’s will is strong and she knows what she wants; not once has she spoken of moving their relationship into a permanent status. Perhaps she has no desire for marriage. That possibility leaves Spock to consider; is he content with the level of intimacy they currently enjoy?

_Yes_ , he thinks purposefully. It is only logical to appreciate interpersonal relationships as they are and not how one wishes them to be.

_However_. 

Halfway to Briarcliff the futility of attempting to make a decision based on incomplete information is strikes Spock and he realizes nothing can be planned without talking with Nyota. He cannot logically fear or hope for an outcome if he is unwilling to have the necessary conversation. He must reveal to Nyota his placement upon the Enterprise and his hopes and plans for a future spent together as husband and wife. She will be understanding and listen and she will tell him if that future can exist. 

He lands on the flit-pad and powers down the vehicle. Again he experiences the unnerving sensation of doubt and apprehension. Spock does not want their time together to end, nor does he wish for their relationship to become strained. Unbidden a fall of light blonde hair steps out of Spock’s memory and he is unsatisfied that it still provokes an emotional response. 

He allows himself an audible sigh; Spock hears his mother’s voice in his head as if she were sitting in the passenger seat. _My Spock_ , she would say. _It isn’t fair until all your cards are on the table. Until you’re absolutely truthful with the other person. Anything else is essentially a lie._

Spock exits the flitter, now determined to speak to Nyota. He does not bother to spare a hovering T’Madh a look as he calmly bounds the stairs to his and Nyota’s shared suite.

He’s at the end of the hall when he sees their door, wedged open just slightly, shut very quickly. Spock tilts his head, uncertain as to what is happening. In his confusion Spock remembers the original reason for hand delivering his proposed roster to Pike in person; Nyota’s gift arrived. 

Is she angry? Has she seen him coming and wish to refuse him entrance to their room? This cannot be what his mother would consider a good sign. Spock traverses the last of the hallway and cautiously enters the room. 

He doesn’t see Nyota but he realizes there is something beneath his foot. Spock reaches down to retrieve it and realizes it is one of Nyota’s soft pink camisoles. A few feet in front of him is a denim and mudcloth skirt. Spock plucks the items of clothing from the ground and continues to follow the trail; her bra, one earring and the other, a hair tie and finally, at the closed door of the bathroom, a pair of lace panties. 

Spock is growling lowly as he triggers the sensor for the bathroom door, and stops short just inside. Fragranced steam billows in his face as a pleasurable and humid warmth chases away the subtle chill Spock has learned to ignore. 

“Welcome home, _kipenzi_.” 

Spock drops the clothes in his hand as Nyota moves out of the fog. She’s wearing nothing but a knowing smile. Her hair wavy and voluminous freed from her braids as she reaches out for Spock’s hands to draw him closer. “Nyota,” he says hoarsely, finally finding his voice. “This is unexpected.” He does not know where he wants to look at and touch first. He tightens his grip on her hands and then slides his fingers along the gathering moisture on her forearms. 

“But not unwelcome,” Nyota murmurs as she begins to unbutton his jacket. 

“Never,” Spock admits, and shrugs out of the jacket after she pushes it off of his shoulders. 

“Were you able to take care of business today?” Nyota takes the time to rake her fingernails against Spock’s flushed abdomen, enjoying the play of muscles beneath his skin.

“I did,” Spock says as he quickly strips out of his shirt and lets it fall to the tile. 

“I found my gift,” Nyota says, and holds his gaze as she kneels before him to help him out of his shoes. “Or should I say _gifts_.”

Spock experiences momentary disorientation. “I am gratified,” he says shakily and exhales through his nose as Nyota places her face very close to his groin. 

“You didn’t have to leave this morning.” Nyota undoes the button on Spock’s fly and lowers the zipper. 

“I had business which needed my attention.”

“Happy coincidence. Wasn’t the only reason you left.”

Of course Nyota saw through his feeble attempt at artifice. “Did my actions upset you?” Spock asks, his tone stiff from trying to suppress his body’s reaction to Nyota’s nails scraping down his thighs. 

Nyota hides her smile by helping him step out of his pants. “A little at first. I thought you went entirely overboard, directly against my wishes. I was overwhelmed and worried.” She peels down his boxers and smiles widely at Spock’s erection. 

“Apologies,” he says. “I understand the nature of our conversation is serious but I am currently having difficulty subduing my desire and thus my body and its reaction to your proximity.”

“It’s fine, Spock. Come, I have a nice and relaxing bath ready for you.” 

Spock wants to tell Nyota that he has seen to his bathing needs prior to his meeting with Pike but she leads him to the large, sunken bathtub filled with steaming water. Once he places a foot in the water he immediately realizes the heat is ideal. Spock settles on the underwater seat and is gratified as overlooked tension begins to lessen. 

Nyota climbs in after him and Spock’s hands immediately settle on her waist as she floats in the extremely large tub. “Is it hot enough?” she asks. 

“It is extremely suitable. Are you sure it is not beyond your endurance?” he asks. 

Nyota smiles and shakes her head; the edges of her hair sink below the water level and plasters the locks against her back and arms. “I’m fine. It’s really warm but it feels good but most importantly I want it to feel good to you. I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit tense for the past few days.” Gently she rubs at the junction between Spock’s eyebrows until he releases the tension held there. “I also know you’ll talk to me when you want to talk, so I’m not going to press you. What I am going to do is try to help you relax to the best of my ability.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Spock’s mouth quirks in an almost smile as she leans forward and kisses him chastely. The contact evolves into nuzzling, and Nyota smiles against his temple as her hand settles against his side, over his heart. 

“I think I’m on the right track,” she murmurs. “You’re purring.”

“I do not purr, Nyota,” Spock rumbles. Nyota raises an eyebrow of her own and scratches most satisfactorily down the back of his head and against Spock’s wishes the reverberation in his chest continues. 

“Okay, Spock.” She holds him close, against her chest and he closes his eyes, careful not to tighten his grasp too much.

It is occasions such as this that Spock wonders if he deserves a life with Nyota. A mate that is considerate of emotions that he has yet to parse, understand or confront. He once thought it was weakness, the way his mother would be patient with his father’s cruel words or inconsideration, but now he understands what it is. 

Love and strength.

“Nyota?” 

“Hmm?” She lifts her head from where she was resting it on her shoulder. 

“You did not say that you liked your gift. If you did not, please tell me. I will not be upset.” His hands slip down to capture her fingers within his grasp and he can feel her amusement and fond exasperation. 

“Osei Sima is my favorite designer, as Gaila told you. I can’t help but be happy with it,” Nyota chides. “And it came from you, so of course I love it.”

“I am gratified to hear.” 

Nyota hums. 

“May I pose a personal query?” 

Nyota lifts her head and chuckles. “Of course, _mndani_.” 

“I have seen you give gifts of varying price with apparent ease. You are generous with your time and your belongings yet I notice a certain reticence when others attempt to do the same with you. Explain.”

Nyota huffs a laugh and pulls away. “I do that?” she asks. 

“Affirmative.” Spock stares expectantly at Nyota. “Your behavior leads me to believe something occurred in your past.”

“Affirmative,” she teases, but her smile is a little off. “An ex of mine. Is the occurrence,” Nyota adds.

Spock and Nyota don’t speak of past relationships. Spock is unsure why but is grateful. “If this memory will emotionally compromise you then you may cease,” he murmurs.

“No, no. Sit forward.” Spock complies and she slides behind him, wedging herself between the tub wall and the solid line of his back. Nyota reaches for the prepared oils, a mixture of sweet almond and lavender. “His name was Isa and he was handsome, smart and charming. I met him at Oxford and it was really great until it wasn’t.”

Spock swallows. “Explain.”

Nyota chuckles. “He loved to give me things. Small, inexpensive things at first. Then bigger things. I was flattered. And then I realized his gifts came with strings.” Nyota pours the oil over Spock’s shoulders and begins to knead the solid muscles beneath the olive skin. “Suddenly I couldn’t turn down a date because I wanted to study. I couldn’t go out without him and he would constantly comm expecting me to answer at all times. At first I thought he was just insecure and so I tried to compensate by jumping through his hoops. Perhaps if he saw there was nothing to fear and he could trust me he would take a step back.”

“I assume he did not,” Spock rumbles as knots loosen under Nyota’s skill. 

“No, he didn’t. He never said it out loud but it was clear that I couldn’t express an opinion that differed from his and that I… that I should demonstrate my gratefulness in a manner pleasing to him. It was so subtle I kept second guessing myself. No one knew what Isa was like behind closed doors and I was unhappy and.” Nyota’s hands still. “I think I was ashamed after a while. I always thought myself too smart for emotional manipulation. That I would shut that stuff down immediately and kick that person out of my life. The fact that I didn’t even notice until I was really unhappy and on edge and I couldn’t figure out why made me feel so stupid. Like I had deserved it.”

Spock wishes to hold Nyota closer but they are already flush against each other, skin to skin. “I am sorry you experienced such duplicity. You in no way deserve such an experience.” He wishes to find this Isa from Oxford and break his arms, and then his legs. Then when he lies broken and bleeding Spock will choke the life out of him for attempting to harm his Nyota.

“You’re tensing up again, Spock,” Nyota says. 

“Apologies. I experience strong emotions when it comes to your wellbeing.”

Nyota presses a kiss to the nape of Spock’s neck and continues with her massage, adding more oil to his skin. “Thank you. I know you’re not him, I know this. You’ve never made me feel like I had to do something I didn’t want to do. I guess I was just scared.”

“Explain, please,” Spock murmurs.

“Scared to trust myself, I guess. Afraid you’d change. That I would be caught in the same cycle and it would be worse because I love you.” Nyota runs her fingers along Spock’s shoulder. 

“Nyota, I do for you because it pleases me to see you happy and satisfied. Nothing more, nothing less. I was unaware I mimicked problematic behavior from a past suitor.”

“I know. I didn’t realize how much it still affects me until Gaila kind of forced me to think about it. She said you give gifts as another way of showing how you feel for me, since you’re disinclined to say it.”

Spock tries not to squirm. “Often it is easier to do rather than say.”

“Then I’m going to let you tell me you love me however you want and can,” Nyota says. “Because at the end of the day you’re not Isa, you’re you.”

Spock nods in agreement. “I am me,” he says. “Also, Nyota if it helps you may remember how difficult it is for me to change my behaviors, as you have remarked previously.”

Nyota laughs quietly. “That’s true,” she admits, and falls silent. With deft hands she works the soothing oils into his neck and back muscles while the steam from the bath opens his pores. 

Nyota is thorough in her ministrations, working away stiffness Spock is so used to carrying he only realizes its existence as it fades. She begins to hum lowly, an unfamiliar melody and Spock wonders how he managed for so long without her. 

“You did not have to do this,” Spock rumbles, his chin resting against his chest. Her ministrations cause his body to move slightly as she works his muscles. 

“You have your ways of showing love and I have mine. Besides, it gives me a reason to touch you.”

Spock turns to find Nyota’s smile is sly. “You never need a reason to touch me,” he says firmly.

“Are you – ” Nyota’s interrupted by Spock’s passionate kiss and immediately the heat between them has nothing to do with the temperature of the water. She winds her legs around his waist to pull him closer. “Wow,” she says as they part. “We could move this to the bed.”

Spock’s grin is little more than a baring of teeth. “I am amenable to that suggestion.”

“Turn around and let me finish rinsing off the excess oil.” Spock dutifully turns and feels a splash on his back and a slide of skin against skin as Nyota scrambles out of the tub. “Gotcha,” she crows, leaving Spock still sitting in the tub in surprise. He catches a flash of gleaming skin as Nyota laughingly runs from the bathroom. 

It takes only a moment for Spock to leap from the bath, slipping briefly before he jumps onto the bath mat and jumps again to land on the carpet in the bedroom. “Why do you run, Nyota?” he growls, now fully erect and dripping water on the carpet.

Nyota laughs breathlessly. “If you want me, come and get me.” She squeals as Spock darts her way, causing her to scramble over to the bed. Spock cuts off any alternate routes, forcing her back onto the bed, scrabbling and weak with laughter. Spock leaps onto the bed and lunges for Nyota’s ankle, grasping it firmly in his hand with a satisfied growl. 

“Mine,” Spock grumbles as he drags a still laughing Nyota across the bed. The perfume of her arousal makes him lean forward and nip the glistening brown skin of her outer knee and higher on her outer thigh, scraping his teeth further up her leg. He turns her onto her front and fills his hands with her glorious backside, hissing in satisfaction as Nyota arches her back, no longer laughing. 

“Oh god, Spock. Spock!” Nyota groans and shudders as he presses his mouth to her core from behind, using his dexterous tongue to work her into a frenzy. Nyota swears and grips the sheets in her fists, pushing herself back onto Spock’s amazing tongue. It’s so good and yet not enough. “Please,” Nyota begs, though she’s not quite sure what she’s begging for. 

Spock understands, ravenous for her body as he is; with extreme reluctance he removes his mouth from her and gently eases three long fingers inside, pressing just so against her vaginal walls. Nyota’s back bows and she shudders at the sensation. Quickly Spock’s whole hand is covered in her juices and he’s groaning at the silken sensation against the pads of his fingers. He splays his fingers and rubs her clinging walls until she is mindlessly rutting onto his hand, desperate for release. 

_Mine_ , he thinks as he removes his hand and slicks his _lok_ with her juices. Spock pulls Nyota to her knees and she goes eagerly, breathless and on the edge already. When he slides in, deliberately slow in his thrust, Spock does not hold back the roar of satisfaction in his throat. 

His skin feels tight all over as he grasps Nyota’s hips and begins to move, the sounds of their sex wet and loud. Spock isn’t going to last long with Nyota ass in his hands so he pulls out and flips her onto her back. 

“What –” She groans as Spock slides in and lifts her into his arms. From this angle it’s easier for Spock to raise his fingers to her face, and Nyota turns eagerly to connect his fingers with her psi points. 

Immediately sensations bleed across their connection, causing Spock’s hips to snap upward as he moves Nyota’s body up and down his _lok_. Spock falls suddenly into his climax, his body going rigid as he grinds upward into Nyota with a choked groan. Nyota is pulled after, clamping down around him and causing Spock to grunt in appreciation. 

They fall to the bed in a haze of good energy. Spock lifts himself up so he can look down at Nyota as he wrangles his breathing under control. “That was –”

“Amazing,” Nyota finishes, her hands trembling as they run up his arms to cup his face. He nuzzles into her touch and laments silently when her arms fall back onto the bed.

“It can be repeated,” Spock says, and she laughs and kisses him deeply.

“We’ve got to get ready for the concert.” Nyota kisses him again and again. “I’m so happy, Spock. You make me happy.”

“I have only ever wanted your happiness,” Spock says as he rubs his nose along hers. 

“I wish it could always be like this,” Nyota murmurs before she kisses him again. 

Spock does as well. He will make the point to speak to Nyota at another time. 

Later. Haste would be unwise. 

 

***

“M’Umbha?” 

“ _Mahabubu_ ,” she calls to her husband, off to the side and out of the way from the steady stream of traffic from the revolving doors. “Has your phone ceased its ringing yet?” M’Umbha asks. 

“Sorry, had to take that call.” Alhamisi ignores his wife’s unimpressed expression and offers his arm. “Now are you going to be mad at me for the whole trip? I told you I may have light work I’ll have to see to, but it shouldn’t interfere with your plans to smother our daughter,” Alhamisi says as they walk to the front desk. 

“I’m not smothering. It’s not smothering,” M’Umbha mutters darkly before putting on a polite smile. “Reservation under name Uhura,” she says as she swipes her ID against the senor mounted facing forward. 

“Good afternoon, Doctor Uhura. Yes, we have your reservation and we’ll be glad to show you to your room. May I ask what brings you to San Francisco? Business or pleasure?”

Alhamisi chuckles and accepts the room key. “Hopefully a bit of both.”

“Well do enjoy yourselves. Information and all relevant comm IDs are accessible through your padd and comms once you’ve connected said devices to our network. Enjoy your stay at the San Francisco Marriott Marquis.”


	8. Dinner for 3 + 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can never get too comfortable.

The morning sun feels more like a hologram than a source of heat but after donning insulated pants and a thick cable knit sweater borne of his mother’s hand, Spock is able to join Gaila and Nyota for the first meal of the day on the stone patio overlooking the pool and the entrance to the rose labyrinth. 

He sits and watches Gaila act out a bit of Natalia’s routine from last night and doesn’t bother to hold back the slight smile on his face as Nyota tips her head back and laughs before graciously pouring him a glass of blueberry, orange and pineapple juice. Her fingers trail along his briefly exposed wrist and Spock experiences a peculiar sensation within his chest.

Spock is _enjoying_ himself amongst others.

Most species in the galaxy operate under the assumption Vulcans cannot understand or see the value of friendship and companionship. In reality it is quite the contrary. Friendship on Vulcan is considered a bond of choice and is taken very seriously. Spock had looked forward to forging bonds of his own amongst his peers but due to his own social ineptitude and the sometimes violent anti-human sentiment he encountered doused his excitement as the years wore on. 

There is no logic in reaching for those who seek to shun you.

“What are you thinking about?” Nyota asks before she takes a bite of her toast. 

“The past,” Spock says. “ _My_ past, specifically.”

Nyota’s grin is quick before she reaches for the persimmon marmalade. “Good memories, I hope.”

Spock has no desire to change the emotional energy of the morning, and thus declines to answer precisely. “I am glad you are here,” he says instead. “I am also glad that you are here, Gaila.” He turns to her with a nod. “You express your joy in ways that are unfamiliar to me.”

Gaila bats her eyelashes in an exaggeratedly coquettish fashion. “Oh, Spock; you say the sweetest things.”

“Doesn’t he, though?” Nyota says as she laces her fingers through his. 

Spock absorbs the quiet happiness emanating from Nyota and immediately feels warmer. Perhaps Christopher is correct, Spock should give himself more opportunities to relax and unwind. 

“Just because one _can_ work doesn’t always mean one should,” Nyota murmurs, and Spock realizes he’s projecting. “I’m sorry, you were kind of loud,” she apologizes. 

Spock tightens his grip on Nyota’s hand and lifts it to his mouth so he may press a kiss against her knuckles. “It pleases me that the longer we have telepathic contact the more adept you seem to become.”

“It’s only because I have such a wonderful teacher,” Nyota assures him. 

Gaila takes a deep breath and sighs happily. “I might not be able to affect you with my pheromones, Spock, but I can smell the both of you and it’s amazing,” she says as she fans herself. 

“Speaking of pheromones, did you utilize yours to gain access to the stage during the last song?” Spock asks. 

Gaila looks guilty for only a moment. “When Natalia leaned down to sing to me I kind of forgot myself. It’s hard to keep that part of myself restricted when I’m excited. She’s so much more beautiful in person than on a holovid,” Gaila says wistfully. “She could’ve asked to step on my neck and I’m pretty sure I’d not only let her, but help her.”

Spock is concerned. “That is illogical,” he says as he glances between the two young women. “Though I expect you are employing hyperbole.”

“She could step on my neck, my back and take all my money and I’d help her,” Gaila says.

“Again, illogical,” Spock says. “Do you wish for all people you admire to cause you bodily harm?”

“She could spit in my millet and –” Gaila breaks off as both she and Nyota shriek and laugh, and Spock realizes it _is_ hyperbole. “Spock, you should have seen the look on your face,” Gaila crows.

Nyota is giggling, half of her face hidden by her hands as her shoulders rock with mirth. “I’m sorry, _kipenzi_ , but your confusion was too funny.”

“It gratifies me to know my significant other enjoys humor that puts me at a disadvantage,” Spock deadpans. 

Gaila’s abruptly stops laughing and looks stricken. “I’m so sorry, Spock; I didn’t think of it that way – ”

“You are a bad man,” Nyota says as she shakes her head. “I’m not going to let you do that to Gaila. He’s kidding,” she tells her. 

Gaila gapes and glances back at Spock, who is suddenly consumed with interest in his own millet. “You… you _got_ me,” she breathed. 

Spock ensures his face is carefully blank and tilts his head. “I do not understand,” he says.

Gaila blinks and sputters. “How often do you do that and people start apologizing?” 

Spock pauses. “Often enough. And it is always gratifying,” he admits. “There is only one other person besides Nyota that can detect I am not truly offended.”

“That’s amazing,” Gaila laughs. “You’re not nearly as helpless as people think you are, are you?”

Spock offers a sort of half smile that causes Gaila to erupt into overjoyed giggles again. As he sits and eats his fruit salad and millet he continues to revel in his contented sensations and is suddenly struck by an illogical thought. If he were the type to wish for or upon an object he would request for this moment to continue. For it to lengthen until it becomes their future. 

A lifetime of sitting on the patio eating breakfast as he watches Nyota and Gaila be happy, and to be happy with them. Long enough for Spock to acclimate himself to the unpleasant sensation he experiences when he thinks of the various possibilities that would conspire to lead him away from Nyota.

There is no logic in fearing the future, but Spock knows it is dread that quickens his heart in his side and stays his tongue. 

***

“Tap it again,” M’Umbha says.

Alhamisi sighs, but obeys, and the scrolling text interrupts itself to start over.

_Cochrane Hall is closed due to repairs. Will reopen July 10th. See registrar for additional information_.

“Something’s wrong,” she says. 

“Do you expect it to say something else?” Alhamisi asks.

“I expected more information,” M’Umbha mutters. 

“Or… we could see the registrar for more information. Or even better, we can ask our daughter.” Alhamisi smiles expectantly at his wife. “Where did she say to meet her?”

“Hmm?” M’Umbha asks.

“Woman, you are as transparent as glass. What did she say when you spoke to her?” he asks.

“I may or may not have spoken to her,” M’Umbha murmurs. 

Alhamisi blinks and sighs. “So Nyota doesn’t know we’re here,” he says.

“That’s possible,” she says.

He chuckles. “You just want to spy on our daughter,” he says.

“Like you didn’t,” M’Umbha fires back. “You could’ve commed her, too.” 

“I could’ve,” he agrees.

“But…” 

Alhamisi has no retort. “Look, we can waste time trying to pretend to each other we’re not nosy parents _like our parents_ or we can regroup and make it look like we trust Nyota.”

“I knew there was a reason I married you,” M’Umbha says while nodding. “But it’s going to have to wait. You’ve got that meeting you don’t want to tell me about.”

Alhamisi looks at her strangely before taking her hand and leading them back toward the street for the taxi. “I’m not going to ask how you know about that.”

“Good,” she breezes. “Because after thirty-eight years you should know.”

“Yes. My wife is as nosy as I am.”

M’Umbha throws her head back and laughs. 

***

Gaila double checks her program and sighs heavily. There’s a lot of information to sift through but Gaila trusts her programming, she knows she’ll nail that thief and soon but until then… Gaila huffs and puts her padd aside. 

“What’s wrong?” Nyota asks as she looks up from her own padd. She’s lounging next to Gaila on her bed in her room. 

“Nothing. As in my program hasn’t found anything yet,” Gaila clarifies. “That… asshole? Asshole, right?” Nyota nods. “That asshole is still out there with our money. Or at least he better hope he still has our money.”

“You’ll find him. He can’t hide from your code,” Nyota says.

“I’m glad you know that,” Gaila says as she settles back and stares at the ceiling. “So. You and Spock.”

Nyota blinks and rolls over so she can look Gaila in the face. “Me and Spock, what?”

“Did you talk to him? You seem less…” Gaila gestures ineffectually. “Less unsure.”

Nyota’s face flushes and she rolls back over out of Gaila’s sight so she can hide her face. “We’re fine,” she grumbles as she flicks through a website on her padd. “I talked to him and you were right.”

“A poor simple girl from Kolar could get used to hearing that,” Gaila says, and leans over so she can swat Nyota on the ass. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“What do you want to know? That we talked and we had some really good sex?” Nyota snaps, and yelps out a laugh when Gaila smacks her butt again. “Will you stop that,” she laughs.

“No, because I like watching your buttocks bounce,” Gaila says. “But I’m glad you’re happier. You two are perfect for each other and he knows it, too.”

Nyota rolls over to escape Gaila’s assault and sighs. “I never thought I’d be here, Gaila,” she says. 

“Never thought you’d be here either.” Gaila’s expression is smug as it is her turn to lean over Nyota. “It’s very important to me that you find your happiness,” she says. 

“I don’t know if I would’ve if you hadn’tgiven me somecourage,” Nyota slurs.

“It had nothing to do with threatening to lock you out of the dorm until you asked Spock out?” Gaila asks. 

Nyota reaches over and tugs Gaila’s bare wrist so it rests on her closed eye. “Oh, lookatthetime,” she says. 

Gaila parses the jumbled words and snorts. “Nyota, you sound inebriated.” 

“I’m fine. You’re drunk,” Nyota says. “I can do this.”

“I smell a buttocks,” Gaila says fondly as she reaches for her comm. 

“Then stop slapping mine!”

Gaila rolls her eyes and laughs as Nyota winds her long limbs around her body, keeping her from her comm. “Let go, Nyota,” she laughs. 

“ _Hakuna mimi si_ ,” Nyota sings loudly. “ _Hakuna mimi si. Hakuna mimi si._ ”

Gaila blows a curl from her forehead and bodily lifts Nyota off of her. “Computer, connect me to Spock,” she says, accessing the in house communications. 

He answers immediately. “Spock here.”

“Hey, can you come get Nyota? I don’t think she’s going to be able to walk out under her own power.” Nyota is still chanting in Swahili as she tries to roll over back to Gaila. “You stay over there,” Gaila warns.

“ _Wewe ni hivyo nzuri_ ,” Nyota barely manages to get it as she tries to reach for the hem of Gaila’s shorts. 

“I recognized beautiful, but I don’t understand the rest,” Gaila says. “I’m sorry.”

Nyota groans indulgently and rubs her thighs together. “Gaila….”

Gaila laments Nyota’s monogamy and turns to her friend with a small smile. “Yes, Nyota?”

“You’re so beautiful,” she says in Standard.

Gaila tries not to laugh as she takes Nyota’s hand and kisses the back. “Thank you.”

“No, like _really_ pretty,” Nyota insists as she uses Gaila’s grip on her hand to move closer. “Like, you’ve got a great rack and hips I would die for but you’re really nice and you’re smart and… and….”

Gaila laughs as quietly as she can. “And?” she prompts as Nyota makes it to her knees and tries to lean in to kiss her. 

Nyota looks confused. “ _Mimi wamesahau_ ,” she says.

“What?” Gaila asks. “I don’t understand what you said.”

“She has forgotten, in Swahili,” Spock says. “Forgive the intrusion, but your door is open,” he says at Gaila’s apparent surprise.

Gaila nods. “I was trying to go easy on her,” she says as she rises to her knees on the bed next to Nyota’s sprawling form. 

“Spock,” Nyota crows happily. “You’re so handsome.”

Spock’s mouth twitches slightly. “I am gratified to know you feel that way.”

“He’s gratified, Gaila. Gaila is handsome, too. And pretty. And she smells _so_ good.” Nyota sort of dives and plants her face in Gaila cleavage, causing Gaila to laugh when Nyota licks her skin. 

“I don’t think you want to start this, Nyota,” Gaila says as she wrestles her almost sister away. 

“Surely she is aware that your pheromone cycle is increasing again,” Spock says as he gathers a pliant Nyota in his arms. 

“I know, I’m right here,” Nyota says, and pokes the side of Spock’s face. 

He turns to her and she hums when she grabs his face and rubs her forehead against his cheek. “Yes, you are.”

“I wanted to build up a tolerance so Gaila doesn’t have to use her suppressants all the time. Sometimes they make her sick,” Nyota says against his skin. “That’s not fair.”

Gaila is looking at Nyota with a strange smile before shrugging at Spock. 

“ _K’diwa_ , there is a flaw in your logic. Even if you were able to build a tolerance without harm to yourself, the rest of the population of the Academy who are not currently immune would be susceptible.” 

Nyota is stricken. “How did I forget about that?” she asks him.

“I am unsure, though I suspect the pheromones are inhibiting your ability to apply the usual logic,” he says. 

“It’s okay, Nyota, it really is,” Gaila says.

“Stupid Humans,” Nyota mumbles against Spock’s chest. “It’s not okay. I want you to be you, and to be happy. _You deserve a clearpath to the happinessyou choose_ ,” she slurs in Yrevish. 

Gaila sighs. “We need more like her,” she murmurs.

Spock does not need Gaila to clarify her statement. “Agreed. We will leave you now.” He takes Nyota back to their room and gently deposits her on her preferred side of the bed. 

“I don’t want to sleep,” she says after he moves away.

“I do believe you will have no choice in the matter,” Spock says. 

“Not true. I’m not a complete amateur when it comes to Kolari pheromones. My best time is seventeen hours and twenty-six minutes,” Nyota says proudly as she wobbles to kneeling on the bed. Spock returns with a glass of cool water and an amused expression. 

“Please drink,” he says, and offers her the glass.

“But I would rather suck your cock,” Nyota says sweetly. 

Only Spock’s extreme control keeps the glass from falling to the floor. “Nyota,” he warns, his mouth suddenly dry. “You are still under the influence of Gaila’s pheromones.”

“So? I still think you’re beautiful,” Nyota says. “And I like sucking your cock. Don’t you like it, my lips around you?” She moves closer and Spock takes an immediate step back. 

“Nyota, we can talk about this after you consume a sufficient amount of water,” Spock says. 

“Then you’ll let me suck your cock?” Nyota teases.

Spock closes his eyes briefly. “I will let you do whatever you desire,” he promises.

Nyota looks at him suspiciously but accepts the glass and quickly drowns the entirety without taking a breath. Spock grabs the glass from her lax fingers and she laughs and pulls off her shirt, revealing her camisole and lack of bra. “It’s hot in here,” she murmurs.

“Indeed,” he says, and it has nothing to do with the environmental controls. Nyota shimmies out of her shorts and kicks her leg, throwing them high into the air. They fall somewhere behind Spock but he does not care to find out where; Nyota is not wearing underwear. “ _You test this one_ ,” Spock growls.

Nyota cackles and flops onto her side. “I’m going to do more than that,” she murmurs, blinking slowly. 

Spock recognizes the signs, and wrestles for greater control of his biological functions. “You should sleep,” he says.

“ _Hasha_ ,” Nyota grumbles, but it is nearly inaudible. She reaches for him without opening her eyes and begins to snore softly. 

Illogically, Spock sighs aloud. _Meditation is needed_ , he thinks, and resolutely turns from Nyota’s enticing yet slumbering form. 

It is hours later that Nyota wakes, tucked under the covers and almost too warm. She sits up and realizes she’s naked save her camisole. She pulls it off and turns to see Spock a few feet away, various padds surrounding him as he works silently. “I don’t remember taking off my clothes,” she admits. 

Spock glances up at her briefly before going back to work. “That is not surprising.” 

Nyota can feel an odd sort of pulsing behind her eyes and knows a headache is coming. “Did I embarrass myself completely? Has Gaila run for the hills because I’m depraved?” 

Spock puts the padd in his hands down to focus completely on Nyota. “I do not believe there is anything you have done or wish to do of a sexual nature that would surprise or intimidate Gaila.”

Nyota looks at him. “I can be sexually adventurous,” she says. 

“Agreed,” Spock says, but Nyota hears _of course you can, dear_. 

“How long did I last?” she asks.

“Two hours, nine minutes.”

Nyota groans. “That’s worse than my best time.”

“Gaila was not at full strength at the time, nor was she in the middle of her photosynthesis cycle. Your endurance has placed you in the outlier range, and is something of which you can feel proud,” Spock says. 

“Thanks, I guess,” Nyota mumbles. “One time I almost ended up humping her leg,” she says with a shallow laugh. “I can’t imagine what I did this time.”

Spock attempts to imagine the scenario and fails. “I was present for an incident. Would you like to know what you did?”

“I don’t think so,” Nyota says. 

“I believe the term most applicable here would be _fair enough_.”

She smiles. “There is something I _do_ wish to know; how quickly I can make you come using my mouth,” Nyota says.

Spock quickly begins to gather his work. “As your significant other and a scientist I am honor bound to assist you in the quest for more knowledge.”

“And honor is so important to you,” Nyota says with a grin. Immediately there’s a pain behind her eyes sharp enough to make her wince and cry out. 

“Nyota, where are you hurting?” Spock asks as he gently gathers her into his arms. Skin to skin contact brings her pain into sharp focus for him and he experiences the odd sensation of his face attempting to wince in sympathy.

“My head,” she mutters. “I was hoping to put this off,” Nyota says.

“I will retrieve pain medication,” Spock says, and eases her back onto the bed. From the first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet he produces a mid-level analgesic and administers the hypo to her neck. After a few seconds it begins to work and the pained expression on Nyota’s face begins to ease. 

“Rain check on the blow job,” Nyota huffs as she closes her eyes in relief. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize for being in pain. It is illogical to believe I wish for you to perform sexually when you cannot enjoy said performance with me,” Spock says.

Nyota opens one eye and reaches for Spock’s hand. Their fingers connect and she feels his exasperation and love coming through the connection. “That feels nice,” she murmurs. 

“Would you care for a massage?” Spock asks. “It will help the long term effectiveness of the medication and release any inadvertent tension in your neck and upper back.”

“Sounds wonderful, _kipenzi_ ,” Nyota says. “I’ve got some almond oil in the bathroom on the counter.”

Spock retrieves the oil as Nyota gets into position, fully nude and almost dozing as the pain meds continue its work on what was would have bloomed into a migraine if she had not had someone as attentive as Spock. 

He returns and removes his clothing until his boxer briefs remain and climbs into the bed with Nyota. Spock straddles her legs just beneath her posterior and pours some of the oil in his hands to warm the liquid before he applies it to Nyota’s skin with sure and even strokes. 

“Oh that’s lovely,” Nyota rumbles as the tension in her body flees before Spock’s strong and talented fingers. “You have amazing hands, but I’m sure I tell you that enough.”

“I am aware of the regard you have for the dexterity of my hands, and since it is you who feels compelled to give the compliment it would be illogical for me to attempt to limit your verbal expression of said appreciation.” Nyota’s mirth fizzles up through the pads of his fingers and through his arms up and out of the smile on his face. 

“Well how about some nonverbal expression of said appreciation?” Nyota purrs. 

Spock digs his thumbs into the muscles of Nyota’s back just so and is gratified when she groans loudly and happily. “I am amenable to such an event transpiring,” he says. Nyota laughs, and before she can say anything else her comm chimes. “Answer call, audio only,” Spock says, and pinches the back of Nyota’s heel when she brings her foot up to try and hit him. 

“ _Mpenzi wangu binti_!”

Nyota gasps, and the sensation of her emotion makes Spock feel violently ill as he climbs off of her to gather himself. Nyota rolls off of the bed and lands with a painful sounding _thump_ on her side but she scrambles to grab her communicator as she shoots him an apologetic expression. “Mama,” she says, breathlessly.

“ _Daughter of mine_ ,” M’Umbha continues in Swahili, “ _how are you doing?_ ”

Nyota takes a deep breath and lets it out. “ _I’m doing fine, Mama_ ,” she responds in kind. “ _I didn’t know to expect your call_.”

“ _Does a mother need a reason to call her daughter? Am I interrupting something_?” 

Nyota glares at the comm and is glad her mother can’t see her face. “ _No, Mama. You just surprised me, that’s all_.”

“ _And I’m not done. Guess who is in San Francisco_?”

Nyota just barely manages to stifle her groan. “ _You are_?”

“ _Your father and I, yes. He has some work he has to do here and I came along. Isn’t that wonderful_?”

Nyota stares into middle distance and wonders how quickly she can crawl under a rock. “ _Just wonderful_ ,” she says instead. 

“ _I won’t take up too much of your time, I know you’re working. Let’s have dinner tonight. We can swing by your dorm to get you_.”

“ _No, no need_ ,” Nyota says quickly. “ _I’m… I’m not in my dorm_ ,” she admits. 

“ _Oh? Okay. Well, how does eight o’clock local time sound? Pick out a restaurant and we’ll meet you there_.”

Nyota wonders how quickly she can arrange for an unfortunate demise. “ _That’s fine. I’ll see you and Baba soon_.”

“ _Can’t wait to see you, my darling. Your father and I have missed you_.”

Now Nyota feels even guiltier. “ _I missed you guys, too. See you later, Mama_ ,” she says, and ends the call before she can burst into tears. “I am a horrible daughter,” she mutters to her knees. 

“Nyota, the emotional response you experienced when you heard your mother’s voice was quite alarming. Are you well?” Spock asks as he crouches beside her.

Nyota looks up at him blearily. “They’re here,” is all she can say.

“Is that a cause for alarm?” 

Nyota pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m going to die.”

“I am unclear how hyperbole is to offer assistance in any manner.” Spock watches Nyota scramble to her feet and tug on her shorts and put her shirt back on. “Am I to assume a delay in coitus?” 

Nyota pauses and looks at Spock as if she’s surprised he’s still there. “I’m sorry,” she says, and in her preoccupation manages to kiss the side of his ear before she runs out of the room with her padd. 

“Gaila,” she wails as she runs down the hall and into Gaila’s room. Nyota stops short when she sees her friend is no longer alone. A tall, muscular black man is lounging next to her, whispering something into Gaila’s ear. “Oh,” Nyota yelps. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” Gaila says as she playfully nudges the man beside her. “This is Roland, Exotic Greg’s colleague.”

Roland snorts. “We have to listen to him go on and on about the beautiful Orion who gave him a cool nick name. When he’s being particularly stupid I want to tell him what it means.”

“Don’t you dare,” Gaila laughs. 

“I’m really sorry to interrupt. Do you want me to come back?” Nyota is wringing her hands, but she’ll leave if she must. 

“Please. I can smell your panic from here,” Gaila scoffs. “I’m sorry,” she says as she turns to Roland.

“Sounds like I should bow out. It’s been fun. Call me if you’re interested again.” Roland slips from beneath the covers and Nyota’s eyes widen as he’s fully exposed. Gaila stretches and looks gloriously satiated as they watch him put on his boxers. 

Nyota says nothing but averts her eyes as Roland dresses and leaves. “Oh my god. Gaila, are you okay?” she can’t help but ask. “I hope you stretched first.”

“Nyota, I am more than okay. I feel like I could fly right out of here. Roland has this thing he can do with his hips… If so inclined he could make a lot of money on Kolar.” Gaila scratches her scalp and sighs happily. 

Nyota laughs and quickly remembers why she barged in on her friend. “I’m panicking,” she says.

“Yes, I know. What’s wrong? Did you and Spock have a fight?” Gaila asks as she grabs her bra from the floor and puts it on. 

“No, not that. It’s my parents.”

“The ones you’re not afraid of?” Gaila asks and gives Nyota a look as she tugs on a pair of shorts. 

“I’m not afraid of them. They’re coming. They’re _here_ ,” Nyota corrects. “In San Francisco.”

“Okay, I’m not hearing the problem yet,” Gaila says as she fluffs her hair. “Do you not want them to visit?”

Nyota takes a deep breath. “I do miss my parents,” she admits. 

“Then good. It’s a good thing.”

“Not that simple.”

“You don’t ever let it be so simple,” Gaila corrects. 

“They think I’m here working on a project,” Nyota admits. 

Gaila cocks her head. “Why would they think that?”

“Because my mother assumed so and I didn’t see a reason to correct her,” Nyota says.

“Ah. Using people’s assumptions against them. Well they don’t have to know it’s a lie. Or even better, you could be done. Summer vacation is almost over. We’ve got what, three weeks left?”

Nyota nods absently. Gaila’s right. Actually, Gaila’s _really_ right. “Yes, a little less than three weeks.”

“Time flies when you can relax,” Gaila murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nyota finds herself saying. 

“So it’s fine. Everything’s fine. See?” Gaila asks. 

“But what do I tell my parents about where we’re staying?” 

“You say you’re staying with a friend… because you are.”

Nyota takes a deep breath and nods. “I’m making this more difficult than it has to be,” she says.

“Glad you’re finally listening.”

Nyota rubs the back of her neck and laughs shakily. “I’m an adult. I haven’t done anything wrong,” she reminds herself. 

“Besides lying to your parents, but I think everyone does that at one point in time in their lives,” Gaila says. “If Terran cinema is anything to go by.”

Nyota shoots her an irritated glance but nods. “You’re right,” she says, and starts looking up appropriate restaurants on her padd. 

Everything is going to be fine. 

***

“Mama, Baba!” 

M’Umbha looks up and beams happily as her youngest daughter makes her way to their table. The Deltan-Sudanese restaurant is bustling but conversation is a quiet buzz as she takes two steps to meet Nyota in a hug. “ _Binti_ ,” M’Umbha says. “My darling you look beautiful!”

“Can your father get a hug, too?” Alhamisi asks as he pretends to pry the two women apart. 

Nyota laughs and throws her arms around her father and breathes in his scent. Immediately homesickness sets in and she holds on tighter, unprepared at how much she missed her parents. “I love you, Baba,” she whispers against his chest. 

“My baby. I love you, too,” Alhamisi rumbles as he pats her back. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m doing great, I’m fine,” Nyota says as she takes a seat across from her parents. 

“I hope you’re hungry; I’ve already ordered for the table, and they’ve got your favorite, cinnamon tea,” M’Umbha says.

“That’s fine.” Nyota gestures a waiter over to their table. “Can I also order some _aragi_?” she asks.

“Absolutely,” the waiter says with a nod.

Alhamisi and M’Umbha glance at each other as Nyota takes a large swallow from the water present on the table. “Nyota, how’s your summer going?” Alhamisi asks. 

“Fine. Fine. Great, actually,” Nyota admits. “I’m really glad I stayed.”

“It’s always good to have fun while you work. Can you talk about your project?” Alhamisi asks.

“Mama, I heard chatter about Altair III!” Nyota slips in that bit of information and is thankful to watch her mother’s eyes alight as she swallows some tea. 

“You heard about that? How?”

“Long range sensor lab,” Nyota says. “I intercepted a transmission that sounded like a complaint.”

M’Umbha shakes her head. “It’s a very stupid thing that should’ve been taken care of years ago. Altair III is considered a very cushy assignment. It’s a short shuttle ride from Risa, low traffic and few expected diplomatic duties. It’s a very competitive position for people without families and has very little oversight.”

“What could possibly go wrong?” Alhamisi asks. 

M’Umbha rolls her eyes and sighs. “Exactly. It’s fallen to my office to comb through months of poorly completed translations, botched diplomatic missions and almost unreadable budgets to find out who is responsible.”

Alhamisi frowns. “Is that why you’re had so much time off recently?” he asks. 

M’Umbha takes a swallow of her tea. “Well, sort of,” she admits. “I’ll find out for sure within the next few days but I may be sent to Altair to complete the investigation in person.”

“Mama, that’s wonderful, right?” Nyota asks.

“It’s a step up,” M’Umbha says, modestly. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. A real promotion would mean running my own diplomatic outpost like Altair. Which I may be up for,” she mumbles.

Nyota’s jaw drops as Alhamisi leans forward. “M’Umbha have you been holding out on your husband,” he asks.

M’Umbha huffs and twists her napkin in nervous fingers. “Not holding out, more like playing things close to the vest until the decision is announced. They could go with Dalera.”

“But they could go with you,” he affirms. 

M’Umbha nods dazedly. “Yes, they could. We gained our appointments roughly at the same time and we’re kind of – I guess it could go to either of us.”

“Do you want it?” Nyota asks, and Alhamisi watches his wife’s expression closely.

M’Umbha shrugs. “It would mean more time off world though.”

“Good. Give you something to do when Baba is off doing who knows what, right Baba?” Nyota asks sweetly, stifling a laugh at her father’s bland expression.

“That is true,” he says quietly.

M’Umbha’s expression fades as she grabs her husband’s hand. “I was going to tell you. I guess when it felt real enough.”

“I know. This is something you would do well and the Diplomatic Corps doesn’t get nearly as much attention as it should, something I think you mentioned over the years,” he jokes. 

“Or when I told you I was going into Starfleet,” Nyota adds.

M’Umbha waves her family away with a small smile. “Enough, enough. I don’t know if I’ve got it yet so no more talking about it. We’ll jinx it.” She glances at Alhamisi. “We’ll talk tonight, my love.”

“I don’t like this ambushed feeling,” Alhamisi says, but nods. 

The food arrives and Nyota tentatively decides to call the evening a success; the conversation doesn’t linger on anything she doesn’t want to talk about and her parents seem happy as they dig into their dinner. It feels like a regular night in Mombasa if they’d all gone out for their evening meal. 

Nyota can’t remember why she was so concerned.

“Doctor Uhura?” Both of Nyota’s parents look up at the waiter who is standing beside their table apologetically. “I have someone who wishes to join your party?”

Nyota cranes her neck to see the person and almost slides out of her chair. “ _HIHoH_ ,” she hisses under her breath as Gaila waves at her. 

M’Umbha glances at her daughter with amusement. “I know what that means,” she warns. 

Nyota takes a deep breath. “I know,” she grumbles. “I don’t know why she’s here.”

“Bring her over,” Alhamisi says with a nod. “I guess we’re going to find out,” he says.

Another chair is slid next to Nyota and Gaila graciously allows two waiters to help her into her chair. “Deltans and Humans make beautiful people,” she says dreamily as she waves at a tall, ebony-skinned woman as she gracefully navigates the space between the tables. “What kind of food are we eating?”

“We, Gaila?” Nyota hisses. “I don’t remember inviting you.”

“You didn’t, but you were so afraid when you left I had to come to your aid.” Gaila leans close to Nyota and takes a delicate sniff. “You still smell nervous,” she says.

Nyota wants to crawl under the table as she swats Gaila away. “Mama, Baba, this is Gaila U’Kolari. Gaila, Doctor M’Umbha Uhura and Doctor Alhamisi Uhura,” she says as she gestures to both her parents in turn.

Gaila nods at M’Umbha and pauses as she seems to search Alhamisi face. “Wait, I’ve met you before,” she crows a little too loudly at Alhamisi. “I talked to you after I entered Federation space!”

Alhamisi clears his throat. “You did,” he admits. 

“No wonder you’re so pretty; your mother and father are gorgeous,” Gaila says as she nudges Nyota in the side. 

Nyota’s not distracted by the compliment. “Thanks,” she says flatly. 

“I never thought I would see you again,” Gaila says to Alhamisi. “You were really nice to me and even though I didn’t speak much Standard you didn’t make me feel like I was…” Gaila’s smile turns sharp and she looks away. “I didn’t get to thank you.”

“You did more than enough to never have to thank anyone for anything,” Alhamisi says. 

Gaila doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t think anyone remembers that but you.”

Alhamisi frowns and attempts to smooth over his displeasure with a drink of tea.

M’Umbha looks back and forth between her husband and Gaila before turning to the Orion with a big smile on her face. “Well, I’m glad to finally meet you in person, Gaila. I hope Nyota has extended an invitation to visit us in Kenya during the summer break.”

Gaila nods as she glances at the various dishes on the table interestedly. “I usually plan a really big and fun trip so that’s the only reason I haven’t come.”

“What happened this year?” Alhamisi asks. 

“I was swindled. What is that?”

Nyota glances at where Gaila’s pointing. “That’s _Naeamia be Dakwa_. And you didn’t tell me you knew my father.”

“I’m going to need some of that,” Gaila says with a nod. “And I didn’t know he was your father. I’ve only seen your mother on your comm. I didn’t realize I recognized your father’s voice until I saw his face. What kind of food is this?”

“Deltan Sudanese fusion,” Nyota says lowly.

“I’ve always thought how interesting it is that Humans come in so many awesome colors but not green or blue,” Gaila says. “But I shouldn’t be surprised Nyota’s your daughter, Doctor Uhura. If it wasn’t for her I would be on the streets.”

Red alert sounds in Nyota’s brain through the fog of new information. “Gaila, come with me to the restroom,” she says, keeping her tone light.

“This is… _really_ good. I wonder if Staskon could make it for us? I’m going to see if he can,” Gaila says around her spoon. 

“Who’s Staskon?” M’Umbha asks. 

“Gaila-” Nyota grasps Gaila’s elbow just as she’s about to dig into Nyota’s food again. “We’ll be right back, first we have to go to the restroom.”

Gaila is confused. “No, I went before I left the house,” she says. Nyota tightens her grip. “Ow!” Gaila yelps. “Is this a social cue?” she hisses. 

“It is,” Nyota says stiffly through the plastic smile on her face. “Won’t take long,” she tells her parents.

M’Umbha nods at both young women strangely. “Okay,” she says, and Nyota hustles Gaila away and toward the bathrooms.

Nyota says nothing until they make it to the restroom. Thankfully it’s empty. “What are you doing here?” Nyota hisses as she locks the door behind them. 

Gaila rubs her elbows. “You’re awfully strong when you’re upset,” she says.

“Yes, I am upset because I didn’t ask you to come,” Nyota says.

“And that made me kind of angry. I sort of know your mother and sometimes we talk when she calls and you’ve left your comm on your bed – ”

“What?” Nyota screeches. 

“Is that wrong?” Gaila asks. 

Nyota takes a deep breath. “No, it’s not,” she reassures her. “It’s just a knee jerk reaction most Humans have when they find out their very free and open friend talks to their parent. Besides, I didn’t even know you had any contact with my father and it surprised me. We’re _so_ going to talk about _that_ later.”

“Humans have so many hang ups how am I supposed to remember them all?” Gaila protests.

Nyota’s not having it. “Gaila, you memorize minutes of scrolling code on the first view,” she says. 

“I am just a poor Kolari girl,” Gaila says sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I guess I let my curiosity about your family override our boundaries.”

“I’m not ashamed of you,” Nyota says firmly, taking Gaila hands. “I’m not ashamed of you or anything that you do, okay?”

“So what is the problem?”

Nyota pauses. “Maybe it’s me,” she says.

“Oh good. So does that mean I get to stay?”

Nyota squeezes Gaila’s hands as she rolls her eyes. “I would love you to. Maybe you can keep me from saying something stupid about the reason we’re here or Spock or anything like that.”

Gaila nods. “I can do that,” she says proudly. “I can lie better than most Humans, anyway.”

A stone settles in Nyota’s throat and she can’t speak around it; instead she tacks on a tremulous smile and nods.

***

M’Umbha and Alhamisi look at each other as their daughter and her friend practically flee to the lavatory. “What do you think that’s about?” Alhamisi asks. 

“If this were Makena or Kamau, I would have a better guess. But Nyota? She’s never given us a problem,” M’Umbha says. 

“That used to be a point of pride. She decides to do this now? What sort of foolishness can one get up to in their early twenties?”

“In Starfleet, no less,” she says. 

“Did you notice when you asked about her project she just sidestepped your question?” Alhamisi asks.

M’Umbha nods. “Not only that but she gave me something I was _enthusiastic_ to speak about. If it hadn’t led me to reveal my possible promotion I’d _still_ be talking about it. She gets her deviousness from your side of the family.”

Alhamisi laughs. “My side? Really? I think I’m cutting off the minibar when we return to the hotel. Obviously you’re still inebriated from this afternoon.”

“Two drinks, darling. Just two drinks. I’m perfectly sober and am telling the truth,” M’Umbha says sweetly. “So where should we concentrate our pressure?”

“Gaila,” he says without hesitation. Alhamisi glances up to see Nyota and Gaila on their way. “We won’t let her deter us anymore.” He smiles at the young women as the return to their seats. “We were thinking of desert.”

“Desert is always a good choice,” Gaila says. “I’m up for anything.”

“Gaila,” Nyota says amusedly. “You can’t just say that because people will misinterpret your meaning.”

She shrugs. “Not my words, not my problem,” Gaila says primly.

“Gaila, I wish I had known I was going to meet you, I would’ve brought more of black soap. Did it get rid of your dry patches of skin?” M’Umbha asks. 

Gaila nods. “Thank you so much, Doctor Uhura. If I don’t use it I can feel it immediately after stepping out of the shower. Something about the water on Terra that just dries – ”

“I didn’t have a project,” Nyota blurts out. Everyone at the table is staring at her, and she has her hand clapped over her mouth as if she can physically keep the words from pouring out.

Gaila squeals as her comm chimes and she pulls the device out of her bag and squeals again. “I found the asshole!”

M’Umbha glances at the chronometer on the wall and nods in satisfaction. “Less than five minutes. We’ve still got it.”


	9. Mother Knows Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyota attempts to have a nice meal with her parents until someone crashes the dinner with good intentions, Spock gets invited to a party and Sarek has many reasons to meditate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flu and tonsillitis knocked me on my butt for a while, but thank you for your patience while I struggled to breathe and write.

The notification chimes on his communicator and Spock briefly considers ignoring it. After doing some personnel research he has found one of his preferred candidates for the Tachyon Physics Lab has perished in a personal accident and Spock is unimpressed with the individual who has been deemed qualified to replace them. He would prefer if-

It chimes again. 

“Authorize call, audio only.” Spock waits for the acknowledging tone. “Spock here.”

“ _Oh! I… Of course you have the same comm ID._ ”

Spock experiences a temporary decrease in respiration at the sound of the voice and words momentarily escape him. 

“ _It’s me, Leila_.” 

At the sound of her name Spock recovers the ability to speak. “I have no reason to change comm IDs. I have never understood why Humans do so and with such frequency.” That was not what he had planned to say.

Leila laughs. “ _Same old Spock._ ”

He swallows and tries again. “It has been some time since we’ve spoken,” he says. 

“ _I know_.” She trails off and Spock remains silent because he doesn’t know what to say next. “ _Are you busy_?”

Spock considers. Nyota has gone to meet her parents for dinner and the work before him is not due for another month. “I am not,” he says.

“ _Can I meet you in five minutes_?”

“Acknowledged. Spock out.”

 

***

Nyota swallows the rest of her _araqi_ and motions for another refill. 

“Want to run that by us one more time?” Alhamisi asks lowly.

“I… didn’t have a project,” Nyota says again.

“This is amazing. The pheromones are about to make _me_ dizzy,” Gaila says happily. 

“You’re not helping,” Nyota hisses.

“Oh, am I supposed to?” Gaila asks, confused as she looked up from the streaming data on her padd.

“No,” M’Umbha and Alhamisi says in unison. “You,” Alhamisi says while pointing at his daughter, “you keep going.”

Nyota sighs lowly and takes a deep breath before straightening her posture. She looks directly at her parents and decides to get it over with. “I didn’t have a project this summer.”

“Then why did you say you did?” M’Umbha asks. 

“I didn’t. Technically,” Nyota adds with a wince. 

“If I weren’t staring at Nyota I’d swear it was Kamau,” Alhamisi mutters to his wife. “ _Technically_ ,” he repeats derisively. “So what’s going on? Are you in trouble?”

“No,” Nyota says firmly. “I’m fine.”

“More than fine,” Gaila drawls, still caught up in the information coming through. 

“Gaila,” Nyota snaps.

“What does that mean?” M’Umbha asks. 

“I was originally going to stay here for the summer with someone,” Nyota says.

“Gaila?” Alhamisi asks. 

“At first no,” Gaila says. “But then yes, me too!”

Nyota wants to crawl under the table, and she still hasn’t gotten her refill of _araqi_. “I don’t need your help, Gaila,” she snaps.

“Don’t get mad at your friend because you were caught in a lie, young lady,” M’Umbha says as she reaches out to pat Gaila’s wrist. “Without her we wouldn’t have known anything about this double life you’re attempting to lead.”

“Please don’t be dramatic,” Nyota begs. “It’s not that big of a deal, I promise.”

“Big enough that you felt the need to lie to us, though. Just big enough for that.” Alhamisi rubs his face and inhales deeply. “So what’s not a big deal but big enough to lie about?”

“I wanted to spend the summer with my… boyfriend.” Nyota blanches at the use of the colloquialism as both her parents stare at her, skeptically.

“Come on, Nyota. One lie is enough,” M’Umbha says. “What was it, some dangerous class you didn’t want us to know about? Extra credit on an unstable asteroid?” 

“You aren’t sick, are you? You still look underweight,” Alhamisi chimes in.

“I thought so, too, but she’s so touchy about her weight,” Gaila says. “But I can’t force her to eat and all she does is work.”

“She does that at home, too,” M’Umbha says with a wave of her hand. “I used to shut her devices out of the network but she learned how to reconnect and make them invisible.”

“There’s hope for you yet,” Gaila says softly as she turns to Nyota. 

“I’ve been in relationships.” Nyota crosses her arms. “I’ve introduced you to others before.”

“Yes. There was Gioro Guang who you promised could be your boyfriend if he taught you Mandarin and Cantonese and Nobuhle Silongo realized you only wanted to pick her brain to learn isiZulu,” M’Umbha recounts fondly.

“I could never tell her how pretty I thought she was. I asked her to teach me so I had a reason to speak to her and then…” Nyota trails off sheepishly.

“You became more interested in the language and the culture than the person,” Alhamisi says, his smile fond. “We know you, daughter.”

“Then you should know she really does have a boyfriend,” Gaila pipes up. “His name is Spock.”

“Gaila, stop helping!” Nyota blinks and closes her eyes against the shocked expressions on her parents’ faces. “Um, his name is Spock,” she says, her voice straying into higher octaves as she opens her eyes again. She laughs nervously when her parents’ expression doesn’t change. 

“As in Commander Spock?” Alhamisi asks. 

“A Commander? How old -” M’Umbha pauses as her eyes widen. “Spock. As in Ambassador Sarek’s son, Spock?” she asks as her tone slips into subzero. 

***

Spock is a full thirty seconds early and Leila is already present, resting against the stone wall that separates Briarcliff from the Kalomi’s Ivy Point. He takes a second to tighten his control and emerges into the garden light. “Leila,” he says when it is obvious she does not see him yet.

Leila blinks and pushes off of the wall. “Spock. I’m surprised you came,” she admits. 

“You requested my presence,” he says. “Though it was unexpected considering how we parted ways.”

“I’m sure,” she trails off. “You’ve changed.” Leila gestures toward Spock’s person before she runs her hands through her thick blonde hair. “You’re not so skinny anymore.”

That is indeed true, through regular exercise Spock has increased his muscle mass by fifteen pounds since Leila’s departure. Spock wonders if this is the moment where acquaintances exchange observed differences with each other. 

Nyota says it is a sign that one has thought about the other and remembered them as they were enough to note differences. Spock has an eidetic memory, as does approximately all Vulcans, but Nyota stresses it is something that Humans appreciate. 

“Your hair is approximately six point one inches longer than upon your departure though it remains the same pale blonde shared by your mother Phyllis and brother Alan. You have also gained what appears to be roughly eight pounds,” Spock says. 

Leila huffs a laugh and crosses her arms over uncomfortably. “Spock, you don’t have to be so specific,” she says. 

Spock experiences an echo of previous conversations and Leila’s exasperation with his attention to detail. “Indeed,” he says, and a peculiar anxiety Spock has always experienced with her threatens his biocontrols. He takes a deep breath. He is not the same Spock left devastated and he will not revert. “I am aware there is no requirement for my specificity here on Earth, but I am most comfortable when I feel there are fewer chances for me to be misunderstood.”

“Wow. I guess I never thought of it that way.” Leila looks at him with an inscrutable expression. “Can we walk? I have dreamed about your garden while I was gone.”

“Mother would be gratified,” Spock says. “I am amenable to a walk.”

“Great.” 

They lapse into silence as they progress through the garden and Spock recalls Nyota’s words again. _Ask the person about themselves. Most Humans love to talk about themselves or their work._

“Is your work at Oxford fulfilling?” Spock asks and he observes the tension in Leila’s shoulders lessen considerably. 

“Well Oxford isn’t San Francisco,” she says dryly, “but I’m used to it by now. Actually, I’m only here for a short visit. I finished my doctorate program and my family wanted to celebrate.”  
“Congratulations, Doctor Kalomi,” Spock says, and receives a nudge and a laugh. 

“Leila is more than fine,” she says. “I’ve thought about this moment for so long. Now that it’s here it feels a little surreal.” 

Spock nods. “Your peers now recognize your expertise in xenobotany. You should feel satisfied.”

“I should,” Leila says. “But I guess I’ve set my sights on the next goal. Always moving forward, as my Dad says.”

“There is logic in your father’s words,” Spock says. Martin Kalomi is a tall man with a firm grip and an eager mind for business.

“I know it’s been a long time since we’ve spoken,” Leila says. “That’s my fault, I know I didn’t handle our last conversation well.”

“Your father told me you had no desire for further contact and to desist attempting to reach you,” Spock says as he adjusts his tunic with a tug to the hem. “I respected your wishes.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I just freaked out I guess. I wasn’t ready to be married and it scared me. _You_ scared me,” she admits.

Spock pauses midstride. “ _I_ scared you,” he repeats. “How did I inflict fear upon your person?”

Leila looks away and sighs. “Not like that, I guess. You were so put together and a little intimidating at times and so…” She looks at him fondly. “So alien.”

“I see.” Spock did not see. There are many experiences to reflect upon with new information and the difference of context makes him feel vaguely ill. 

“I’m not being clear,” Leila says. “I’m sorry. Can I take it all back?” 

“I am currently incapable of forgetting your words,” Spock says.

“Spock. You’re doing that thing where you’re looking at the top of my hair instead of at me. I upset you, didn’t I?”

“There is no logic in becoming _upset_ ,” he says, but forces his gaze down to hers. “Your proximity is causing me disquiet.”

Leila’s eyes widen as she takes a step back. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

Spock says nothing. Leila stepping away does not help.

“My parents are throwing a party to celebrate my title. I would love for you to come,” she says. “Day after tomorrow.”

Spock considers telling Leila that he will be busy. That he does not want to go and seeing her is making his breathing irregular. “May I bring a guest?” he asks instead. 

“Oh, right! Your girlfriend. I never thought – You know what? It doesn’t matter what I thought. Of course, bring her,” Leila says.

Spock wonders how Leila knows of his current relationship but does not ask. “Thank you.”

Leila rubs her neck beneath the fall of her hair and turns away awkwardly. “Okay, well I guess I’ll see you between there. I’ve got stuff I’ve got to take care of but hopefully we can make some time to see each other?”

“There is a distinct possibility,” Spock says.

Leila nods. “That’s all I can ask, I know.” She hesitates and moves forward and up to kiss Spock on his cheek, very close to the corner of his mouth. Spock remains absolutely still even when she falls away. “I’ll see you later, Spock.” Leila says.

Spock does not move until she is out of sight, then takes an alternative route through the garden to the house. 

***

“You’re _dating_ the Vulcan son of the Vulcan Ambassador,” Alhamisi says flatly. “Who outranks you?”

“Do you call him that in bed?” Gaila asks. 

“You’re sleeping with him?” M’Umbha screeches. 

“Mama – ”

“Oh no, no. Don’t Mama me, young lady,” she says.

Alhamisi pinches the bridge of his nose. “M’Umbha-”

She whirls on her husband with a warning in her eyes. “Don’t.” She turns to her daughter. “I know we disagreed when you chose Starfleet but I would’ve thought you would have better sense than this,” M’Umbha says. 

Nyota falls mute in the face of her mother’s ire. “I didn’t-”

“What, think? That is obvious, Nyota,” her mother says. “Especially now, when I could be promoted they’re going to be looking into all aspects of my life, including my family.”

“It’s okay Mother M’Umbha,” Gaila reassures the woman. “We shouldn’t fight.”

M’Umbha looks at Gaila angrily, then deflates. “You’re right,” she murmurs. “Now is not the place and time.”

Nyota blinks at her mother’s about face and glances over at Gaila, who looks a bit smug. Nyota doesn’t know whether to praise or damn Orion pheromones, and lightly kicks Gaila in the ankle. “Mama, I’m not in this relationship to get back at you, I promise,” she says. “I wasn’t thinking of you when we started.”

“Again, that much is obvious,” Alhamisi says. “Help me understand how this happened. You’re usually so focused on your work you don’t socialize much, let alone with an instructor.”

“I’m still focused,” Nyota says. “Spock helps me stay motivated by making sure I don’t burn out. He’s… helping me accept my limitations and aids in finding ways to eliminate stress and promote efficiency in all aspects of my life.”

“Sounds like a teacher,” M’Umbha says.

“He is. He’s really good at it,” Nyota says fondly. “Besides, you told me that the best type of relationship is one where you’re constantly learning from each other.”

“It’s true, you do say that,” Alhamisi says as he takes M’Umbha’s hand. 

“Stop repeating my words when I don’t want to hear them,” she jokes as she pulls away from her husband. “Oh, my daughter, what am I going to do with you? After Makena and Kamau you were such a change. We never worried if you were sneaking out to a party or getting into trouble.”

“The worst Nyota used to do was get into arguments with the head librarian of Mombasa’s Municipal Library,” Alhamisi tells Gaila. “She would petition and fight for longer hours at the town council every year before she went to college. It didn’t matter the library was fully digitized, she enjoyed reading the paper books.”

“So you’ve always been like this,” Gaila says as she shakes her head. 

Nyota’s groan sounds loud in the wake of her parents’ silence. “I’m sorry I lied,” she says when the conversation does not resume. “I just… I didn’t think you’d approve, even if I waited until I wasn’t his student before I asked him out.”

“You asked _him_ out?” M’Umbha looks only slightly mollified as Nyota nods.

“We don’t exactly approve,” Alhamisi says. “But we’re trying to understand that you’re in the phase of your life where parental approval isn’t… strictly necessary. But you are still our youngest daughter and you are still young. You don’t have to hide from us. We would rather you seek our counsel than to feel that you must lie to us.”

Nyota’s shoulders slump under the weight of her guilt. “Mama, Baba, I’m sorry,” she says miserably. 

“Darling girl, don’t cry. If you cry I’ll cry,” Alhamisi says.

“If you guys cry then I’ll cry, too,” Gaila resolves. “I don’t wish to be left out.”

M’Umbha laughs and shakes her head. “Oh, Gaila. You’re are by far more than Nyota could ever put into words.”

Gaila preens. “I do try my best.”

“Now,” Alhamisi says, reaching for Nyota’s hand with his free one, “when do we meet him?”

***

Sarek rises out of his meditation and takes a long, deep breath as he registers the heat of the sun’s light on his face. He rises and stretches, luxuriating in his body’s obedience. He considers reaching out to Amanda through the martial bond but after last night’s unexpected news it’s probably best he wait until she wakes and greets her in person. 

An unfortunate caveat of an ambassador’s career is unexpected and lengthy periods away from home. Sarek finds that before his marriage to Amanda he harbored no ill will toward the demands of his office. After Amanda he finds he experiences less patience for tasks that dominate his time away from his family. 

In an attempt to offer a conciliatory overture Sarek cleared his schedule before meditation so he may spend the entire day of his departure with his lovely and exceedingly patient wife. Sarek contemplates letting Amanda sleep but he knows she would rather know as quickly as possible.

But upon return to their suite Sarek finds their bed empty and neatly made. Since he is alone he allows himself a frown, byproduct of years of being bonded to a Human. “ _Adun’a_?” he calls out.

No response. 

Sarek reaches out to Amanda and receives a very thorough deflection, a tactic he himself employs when he cannot be distracted by his wife and the litany of thoughts that filter through when enthusiastically wishes to communicate.

It is of no matter. Ten hours, twenty minutes and nineteen seconds exist between he and his departure. More than enough time for Amanda to conclude her business and return to him. Sarek is unconcerned. 

He sets about completing business ahead of schedule. Sarek attends to the clan’s needs, updates himself on his family’s financial situation and informs his investment banker on Earth of a few key moves he wants implemented. He answers a few emails from Ambassador Thira sh’Clasia and with no regret declines an invite to dine with her and her family due to being called away.

Busy work falls before Sarek’s dutiful hand, and when he has completed anything that could possibly require his attention, he is cognizant of two things. One, Amanda has yet to return. Two, he is scheduled for departure in two hours, fifty-seven minutes and forty seconds.

Sarek experiences displeasure and reaches out again to Amanda. 

_Patience, my love_ , she says.

Sarek does not wish to be patient. 

He takes a walk through Amanda’s gardens and attempts to center himself and find emotional peace but there is none to be had. Has his _adun’a_ not stated in the past that he was inconsiderate to not think of her between frequent periods off-world? That their marriage is something that requires attention and nourishment so it may grow strong?

Sarek is attempting to nourish his marriage, if his wife will cooperate. 

He feels Amanda before he hears the flitter, and absolutely does not rush outside to greet her. Sekuv, he who pilots the flitter, helps Amanda onto the ground and bows. “S'haile,” he says with a bow to Sarek. 

“Sekuv. I trust I will be prepared to depart on time,” he says, while staring at Amanda.

“Indeed.” Sekuv bows yet again and returns to his duties.

Amanda looks at him and opens her arms. “I do not wish to be pacified,” he says.

“I think you do,” she says, and takes a step closer. “You’re angry.”

“Anger would be illogical. I may have cleared my schedule to spend time with you but I did not inform you of such in a timely manner, thus I have no right to anger,” Sarek says.

Amanda nods slowly. “Those words are true,” she concedes. “Disappointment then?”

“Disappointment would be an accurate description of what I experienced,” Sarek concedes. 

“I’m sorry, my darling. I didn’t want to be gone so long but I really wanted to get this done and it took longer than anticipated.” 

“What did you have to do that required you away from me?” He asks, admittedly calmer now that Amanda is in his arms. The bond flares to life between them and he feels settled again. 

“Oh, oh,” Amanda coos as she steps further into the circle of her husband’s arms. “Would an apology help?”

Sarek presses his cheek against the crown of Amanda’s head and regrets that she has her hair covered. Illogical as it is, Sarek appreciates the sensation of her silken strands against his cheek. “It would be a paltry remittance,” he says. 

“Can’t have that. What if I told you I was coming with you?”

Sarek pulls away and probes the bond. “You spent this time apart to organize for your absence?” 

“I did,” Amanda says as she bounces once on her feet. 

“You were unsure if you would be able to do so on such short notice. It was a gamble,” he says.

“Yes, I gambled. But I had to try, Sarek. And don’t get bogged down in the probability because everything worked out and instead of the time we would’ve had today we’ll have however long you’re going to be on Earth!”

Sarek understands this is a better situation, but dislikes having spent so much time without adequate information. He sends the feeling to her rather than verbalize it, and is gratified as she kisses his face. 

“Are you at least pleased that I’ll be able to join you?” Amanda asks.

“I am. I find I now view this trip favorably, rather than as a burdensome task. I will have the Embassy alerted.”

“No need,” Amanda says. “We’re not staying at the Embassy.”

Sarek watches his wife not quite look at him. “Where will we stay, Amanda?” he asks carefully.

“We’re going to stay at Briarcliff.” Amanda reaches up and kisses him again. “It will be nice to have both of my men together in the same house.” She pats his forearm and slips from his grasp.

Sarek follows Amanda back into the house. “ _Adun’a_ , I must question your logic,” he says.

“You’ll live. I’m tired of being a bridge between you and Spock, Sarek. You’re both so stubborn and so much alike you can’t see each other to talk to each other. Every time Spock schedules a trip to Vulcan you’ve been busy,” she says as she throws the doors open to their bedroom suite. T'Ath has a few garments ready for viewing on a rack, and Amanda steps forward to inspect the selection. “Perfect. All of these, and the jewelry to match.”

“Yes, Lady Amanda.” T’Ath inclines her head and goes into the large closet that holds Amanda’s various garments and accoutrements. 

“What you speak of are merely hazards of the office,” Sarek says when they are alone again. “I am beholden to my people and the Federation.”

“So noble,” Amanda deadpans. “When we’re on Earth suddenly Spock can’t seem to get away for longer than it takes to tell me he’s not going to be able to see us during our trip.”

“I cannot speak to the schedule of a Starfleet officer but I can hypothesize it is varied and demanding,” he says.

“The statistical likelihood that you’re both busy each time you’re in proximity to each other is very low. I may not be able to compute the probability in my head but I can smell bullshit. Don’t,” Amanda warns. “You know what I mean.”

Indeed he does. Sarek sighs internally and attempts a different approach. “How does Spock feel about your abrupt presence in his home?”

Amanda raises an eyebrow as she settles at her vanity and Sarek is struck by how much he can see his son in his wife. “I am his mother,” she says. “Besides, I bought him that house and he is my son. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I’m unable to visit my son in the house I bought him.” Amanda scoffs at her reflection as if it said something ridiculous. 

Sarek narrows his eyes at the back of his wife’s head as she removes her dark brown cowl and brushes her hair with long, sure strokes. “You have not informed him of our impending arrival,” he says.

Amanda pauses in her work and turns to her husband. “I look forward to the day when I don’t have to trick my husband and my son into spending time together. We’re going to have a few days as a family, located in the same building, and we will get along. You will be calm and understanding and Spock will be calm and respectful and maybe, just maybe this will be a normal, mundane visit.”

Sarek begins to wonder if he has enough time for another meditation session.


End file.
